Mind if I Stay
by Miss Mango
Summary: Trish loves Wheeler. Wheeler loves Linka. Old loyalties and new passions collide.
1. Chapter 1

Hello dear readers! It's new story time! The beautifully haunting song below got me thinking a lot about unrequited love. I do love the angst! I decided to play with that emotion and let it become an inspiration for a new tale of mine.

Let me know thoughts, likes, dislikes, ANYTHING!

 **Rated M for language and adult situations. Be warned!**

* * *

 _Do you mind if I stay?_

 _I'll blend in with the air_

 _Oh I've never felt this alone…_

 _Can you read my smoke signals?_

 _I'm still hung up on you_

 _Your silence is a dusty death road_

 _Who knows where the wind will blow…_

 _I'm just a man lost in space_

 _Calling out, hoping to hear something back, something back_

 _Listen to the universe, you may find an answer_

 _Love is here and everywhere, don't be scared_

(selected verses from "Mind if I Stay" by Kadebostany, from

their album "Monumental"- 2017)

* * *

 **Mind if I Stay** by Miss Mango

Chapter 1

The redhead absent-mindedly caressed away the droplets of condensation from his beer bottle, lost in thought. He went on to take a leisurely drink, the liquid frothy and stronger than he was used to, but he welcomed it all the same. The temperature outside seemed to have increased tenfold, if possible, in the early night hours. He guessed it was largely due to the humidity. He shifted in his chair, the cotton T-shirt sticking to his back as if to prove his theory right. They were in a quaint, coastal city somewhere in Ecuador – _Salinas_ , he now remembered- and the salty scent of the ocean was mixed in with the air. The small beach-front bar was illuminated with lanterns and string lights just like the ones they used back home at Christmas time; the effect was calming, soothing. They resembled little stars or static fireflies.

A lively _bachata_ rhythm, steady like a heartbeat, pulsated off the speakers of the wooden structure, coloring everything in a lazy golden color. A few couples were dancing along to it expertly. _Made dancing seem so freakin' effortless,_ he chuckled to himself silently, tapping his foot along with the sound. Dancing was not his forte, but he could nonetheless appreciate the art without shame.

His blue eyes moved to the pretty blonde, who was smiling at something Gi was saying beside her. A dimple formed at the corner of her mouth, and she inattentively moved the mass of golden tresses to her other shoulder to beat the heat. The humidity had caused the ends to curl, and he wondered for the hundredth time since he'd met her how she could look so flawless in all kinds of climates and situations. He did not miss the appreciative glances thrown her way by the other male patrons. It could be in part that her fair complexion, her Nordic features, stood out in the sea of brown faces and coal hair, like a diamond from pearls. But the American knew it was more to do with how stunning Linka was. The green halter top that matched her eye color rode over her hips, her legs kilometric beneath a simple, faded denim skirt. Her head turned slightly in his direction as if she could feel his gaze on her body, and their eyes met. Wheeler smirked a little and raised his bottle to her in greeting. He'd longed stopped pretending that he was not checking her out every chance he got, and she had somehow settled into cohabiting with his customs by now. She shrugged in response and newly turned her attention to her friend beside her.

They continued this game for a while, never tiring, and Wheeler felt little thrills going up his spine. He wasn't sure if it was more the beer or the girl at this point. All he knew was that the atmosphere and the pleasant music were helping wash away the stress of the long day spent fighting ecological crimes. Not that they were superheroes or anything. Just five young people with a lot of time and energy on their hands, willing to help out globally. No place in the world was immune to the decaying effects of human pollution, it seemed. And so time passed; with it, the depth of his feelings for the sensible Russian blonde. She didn't seem to be interested in anybody _that way_ , but they'd had moments of _something_ – especially when either one of them was in mortal danger. But they were perpetually stuck in limbo, somehow. Immobile, unmoving, like quick sands. Fighting against whatever it was that was forming between them (exclusively on her part), concentrating more on their hectic work load (another one of her notions). All this didn't prevent Wheeler from fantasizing about her at night, though. On the contrary, his thoughts became more vivid as time went on. He could not help but picture those long legs coiled around him, or her perfect pouty lips brushing the side of his neck seductively. The fact that she was intelligent as hell and downright resourceful were added bonuses, for he'd always appreciated no-nonsense girls. Sure, her personality had to be handled with care, like burning embers from a fire, but lately it had become a little easier reading her. _Cracking_ her was a different ball game, however. She was full of stubborn hesitation. Linka stood proud in her decisions, unwavering, and somewhere along the journey, she had decided that they weren't a good match. _Like oil and water_ , she had once pronounced when particularly angry with him. He'd blamed her for not even giving them a chance to _check_ for a right fit. It was like judging a dress on a hanger, for crying out loud! The girl was stubborn, but Wheeler somehow knew her resolution could be shaken. Her armor was not completely bullet-proof. And he did like to play with fire a lot…

But there _was_ something between them, a pull of sorts, and even the other members felt it. They would resume to eye-rolls or brilliant schemes to leave them alone, of course, but nothing seemed to surprise them any longer when it came to the Russian and the American. Sworn to be a mystery, they'd simply concluded. Wheeler figured Linka couldn't deny it _forever_ … now, could she?

Kwame joined the two girls who were standing off to one side. He fell into conversation with Gi, and Linka started comb-fingering her hair, a sign her mind was wandering. Wheeler saw his chance to swoop in and he rose. His glance fell on Ma-Ti, the youngest member, who was sitting at a nearby table, talking easily with a local girl. The raven-haired girl was laughing at something he was saying, and he was beaming at her. _Cute_. Even Ma-Ti was scoring!

Never one to be defeated easily, the American headed for the bar, deciding on another _cerveza_ for himself and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice for Linka. She was partial to the raspberry kind as of late. With easy strides, and both bottles secure in hand, he sauntered towards his teammate with no cares in the world. He did not feel the need to voice a single word, but simply took her hand and led her on the small dance floor. The makeshift canopy above them let in the light of the stars. Wheeler took their galactic twinkle as a good omen. He thus went on to pull Linka closer, snaking an arm around her slim waist.

The Russian looked up at him silently, almost examining him. She steadied herself against his chest, letting her hands linger there. Wheeler mischievously pressed the cold bottle of vodka against the small of her back, and she yelped and jumped. The surprising contact on her naked skin caused her body to arch against his as a reflex, and Wheeler was nearly overflowing with sheer mirth at this point.

" _Yankee_!" Linka scolded him with a ready pout before dissolving into a small laugh. She reached behind her to take the offending bottle away from his hands. He could tell she was both frustrated and elated by his consistent need to keep her on her toes. Walking the line between a ready argument and some sort of romantic effusion seemed to be his calling in life when it came to Linka.

"You seemed like you needed to cool off, babe," he smiled easily ( _charmingly_ , he hoped). The scent of her favorite body lotion, a cross between shea butter and fresh cupcakes, invaded his senses head-on like a solar eclipse.

"Hmm, maybe you are just trying to get me drunk, _da_?" Linka replied good-naturedly with an eye roll, her tone a mixture of accusing and entertained. All the same, she took a drink from her bottle. She was in a good mood tonight, serene, Wheeler could instantly tell. Her body seemed more relaxed than usual against his as they swayed lightly to the music together.

"You're kiddin', right? It would cost a fortune to get a Russian wasted, even _here_!" He was teasing, moving his mouth closer to her ear in order to be heard over the music.

Linka shoved him playfully, accustomed to his humor by now, and smiled to herself a little. She tipped the bottle towards him as a sign of gratitude, voicing a genuine, " _spasiba_." Her eyes took in the surroundings in a leisurely fashion before landing on him again. The American found that time stopped when it was just the two of them like this. Adjacent things lost their meaning, their momentum, and never having experienced such a thing before, he was forever in awe of this phenomenon. Linka messed with his emotions that way, along with the space-time continuum, apparently. Sometimes, it was like standing in the middle of a hurricane with her. No way out, no logic, no instinct strong enough to get you outta there in time.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke again. "Today was not easy, but winding down in a place like this makes it just a little more bearable."

Wheeler's body was no longer worn out from the day's events, a new kind of energy was pulsating through him at this point. He was sure it had to do less with the beer and more with Linka's soft curves pressing into him. _Life was good_.

Confidently, he placed his other arm around her waist, locking her into an embrace. He could feel the steadiness of his heartbeat inside his chest like a tribal drum.

"Place's great, but the company's even better." He let the side of his face brush gently against hers as he spoke. He heard Linka take in a breath as if to steady herself, or possibly to destroy his suave lines, and something like a current travelled between them. Wheeler wasn't sure how she could continue to deny the strength of the connection between them. It had taken root now, it was growing; no longer could it be suppressed.

"It is hard to imagine you _without_ good company, Yankee," the girl resorted to teasing to dissipate the delicate magic that had been created. This time, she had taken a jab at his flirty nature, which ticked her off more than she liked to admit. Linka did not like to show that things affected her too deeply, but Wheeler's mom had always told him that a healthy dose of jealousy accompanied true love like a shadow. It was a sign she cared, then.

Feeling incredibly daring, he pulled her closer until their bodies were short of being crushed together. Tonight was a good night to let her know he wasn't all about games all the time.

"You don't see me seeking out _other_ company at the moment, do you? And before you say what I think you're gonna say as a comeback, I _am_ able to hold a conversation in Spanish, _thankyouverymuch_. A lot of my friends growing up were Puerto Rican, Cuban, Mexican… I absorbed a lot of it."

Linka shook her head a little at him, seeming surprised that he'd thwarted her arguments before she could even have a chance to lay them out. Wheeler assigned himself an imaginary point on the imaginary scoreboard between them. _He was feeling pumped, damn it!_

"Is it so hard for you to believe that I prefer _you_ over anyone else?" came the point-in-blank question from the redhead. Linka was speechless for a moment, her mouth slightly ajar. When she met his eyes, Wheeler hoped with all his might she would let herself see the truth buried there. Instead, she took a long drink to avoid giving an answer to his too-candid query.

Instinctively, boldly, Wheeler brushed his lips against hers, tasting the sweetness the vodka had left behind, and he heard the softest sigh coming from her. He suddenly didn't care if she smacked his face or started a yelling match, he just didn't feel like going against his urges anymore. It was tiring, too exhausting, like swimming upstream in the middle of a storm. He wanted to do so much more to her, but the setting was all wrong. Too many prying eyes, especially belonging to his teammates, and definitely not enough moonlight. The grin that came to him illuminated his entire face.

"Let's get outta here," he suggested nonchalantly to a momentarily lost Linka, tugging on her hand to get her to move. He parked his empty bottle on a nearby table, reaching to do the same with Linka's next. The American suddenly wanted to hold her close. Games had gotten them absolutely nowhere so far! Who knew what tomorrow would bring, and it suddenly seemed a shame to leave the road paved for regrets, what-ifs, heartache.

Somehow, he'd stumbled upon love, he who had so many reasons in his past to reject love, refute its very existence. Surely, it was a sign from the heavens. He didn't believe in much, having had a life filled with pain and suffering at the hands of his family, but he was sure God existed and had some sort of directive for his life. That's what preachers were always going on about, anyway, about how even outcasts were vital pieces in the bigger puzzle of creation, so why shouldn't he believe that maybe this utterly frustrating, but still divine, Russian girl had been placed on his path for a reason? When a sacred opportunity such as this one knocked on your door it was almost a sin not opening wide the gates. And God knew his soul was marred enough as it was; perhaps, now was the time to start living right.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They wandered down to the beach hand-in-hand, until they both decided that sneakers and sandals were superfluous. It was a fantastic pleasure letting the sand caress their bare feet and they indulged in it without cares. The moon was three-quarters full in the sky, bright enough to cast a silver spotlight over the water. The ocean glittered with its sacred kiss.

The waves were unhurriedly sweeping the shore, tirelessly and hypnotically, washing everything clean. There were a few upturned wooden boats littering the beach, some with fishing nets jumbled up in giant, irregular spheres nearby, the oars forgotten here and there. The simplicity of what life must be like in that fishing town inspired Wheeler. It made one stop to enjoy the surroundings, breathe in the present and not worry obsessively about the future. It seemed to whisper confidence to him, a silent encouragement to let go of messes and misunderstandings, and just dive in the truth.

He sat down on a small boat, the wood still warm from the day's sun, and pulled Linka down on his lap. Her eyes were wide and curious for him, but she did not speak. She seemed concentrated on dangling her feet over the sand, her legs positioned on one side of him.

"Babe," Wheeler spoke up, almost sorry to ruin the magic of the still night. But this could not wait any longer. He sighed a little and moved to tuck a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. "Lin, I gotta talk to you."

He paused under her close scrutiny and swallowed a know of anxiety in his throat. Funny, this had seemed like such a good plan earlier. In his head, he had a speech prepared that could make the best public orator cry. It was going to be _epic_. All he had to do was open his mouth and formulate the words. Nothing to it. It's not like he'd ever had problems expressing his thoughts before. Hell, he was always getting in trouble for speaking his mind _too_ freely on a constant basis!

"Here it goes. I… uhmm… ok, you see… it's like this…" the clumsy American smiled a little, breathing in more of the saline air as if it could somehow aid him. "The truth is… uhmm… damn… _shit!_ "

Frustration colored his face the same tone as his hair. All good sense was flying out the window, apparently. Wheeler ran a hand back and forth through his freshly cut hair and sighed. He'd faced dragons, giant rats, and mudslides, so why was _this_ proving to be so much more overwhelming?

Linka was smiling by this point, biting her lip to keep from laughing, actually. Her eyes were twinkling in an amused fashion, and her face seemed ethereal just then. It did nothing to tone down Wheeler's nervousness.

"I've never been much good with words… well, unless I'm hurling insults at someone," he admitted, mumbling, shaking his head at his current failure. _God, don't make me mess this up, please!_ , he was bargaining silently in his head. With a second sigh, he gently cupped Linka's face, running his thumb over her full bottom lip. Maybe he was over-thinking it, anyway.

"Babe, what I want is… is…"

"You want to kiss me," Linka concluded for him, a little breathless by now. Her smile was sincere and her eyes were scanning his face carefully, as if she wanted to anticipate his every move. His spontaneity had gotten him a few slaps and punches from the Russian girl in the past, especially in the beginning.

"No," Wheeler shook his head defeated, and Linka gasped a little in response. Her eyes had become saucers in her lovely face, and she was probably moments away from checking if he had a temperature. Never in the history of their strange relationship had Wheeler been known to turn down any sort of affection from her. The moments were so rare to begin with he'd learned to take whatever he could get, be it something as trivial as a smile or a gentle look from the tempestuous blonde.

Now, he watched as her face fell a little and her arms circled her body, almost protectively.

"I see," she replied in a low tone, biting down on her lower lip and cutting off eye contact. The blush creeping up from her neck let Wheeler know he'd mangled up his speech beyond repair. _Goddamnit!_ Why was it so difficult talking to the one person you'd been crushing on, well, since, forever?

"No, not _that!_ " Wheeler had to go and explain, suddenly realizing she probably now thought he intended to head straight for third base with her. Scandalous, indeed! He was tempted to hit his head against the boat repeatedly as punishment for his stupidity. A _monkey_ could probably be doing a better job at this, he was sure! Where _was_ Suchi when you needed him?

"I mean, _that_ , too, eventually… but not now! Only when you're ready, I swear… like… ah, _fuck_! Why am I making such a mess of this? This should be easy!"

Wheeler felt the Russian girl relaxing little by little, until her shoulders started shaking with something like laughter. She gave in to it and threw him a sideway glance.

"What has gotten into you all of a sudden, Yankee doodle?"

Wheeler's lips broke into a wide smile filled with relief. He now felt a little calmer, his heartbeat less violent against his ribs. Glad as hell that she wasn't throwing sand in his eyes and running back to civilized humans, who could, you know, formulate complete sentences.

With gentle strokes, Wheeler caressed the smooth skin of her cheek and blinked his eyes against her green ones.

"That's just the thing, babe. It's _not_ all of a sudden. What I feel for you… it's been building for some time now. I know you're not used to seeing me so serious about something… _anything_. But, Linka… I wanna know that when I kiss you goodnight tonight, tomorrow I can get up and kiss you good morning. In broad daylight, in front of the others. I want what we have to be _real_ , as real as I feel it. I'm tormented without you, seriously, it's like agony until I get to touch you again. Then, all is fine again, _more_ than fine, actually, _perfect_."

The words miraculously bubbled out of him and the Russian girl was as if holding her breath. His eyes were unyielding, scrutinizing hers for feedback, answers, _anything_. Wheeler could barely recall the last time he had ever needed something this badly, it was a ferocious drive in his soul. Her words were hand grenades at this point, he was very well conscious that they could easily destroy him.

"Jacob," Linka sighed out his name, clasping her hands together neatly over her knees. There was a type of sadness in her eyes that immediately alarmed the New Yorker.

"I… I do not know…"

"Hold it right there, babe," Wheeler cut her off, lifting her chin upwards so that he could maintain eye contact with her. "You don't have to _know_ anything. This is something that's supposed to come from your heart, from your _gut_. You're not supposed to be able to make sense of it."

He instantly knew he'd nailed it on the head, her fear, her biggest reservation. She was afraid of what travelled between them, of losing control to it, the wild current, the unspoken passion, the hedonism of it all. How _unpredictable_ its strong pull could be.

"Trust me?" he whispered inches from her lips, scanning her eyes, pleading. His male pride was long gone when it came to her; he'd become a malleable ball of mush and needs somewhere along the way.

"It is not easy for me," she whispered back, and her vulnerable tone stirred him. It wasn't often she was so unguarded. They shared this characteristic. Life hadn't been kind to either them, having to rely on some serious defensive mechanisms in order to survive. His walls seemed to become more fragile as time went on, more _permeable_ ; Linka's less so. In fact, she seemed almost pleased by the fact that she could be untouchable if she so desired. She drew strength from that.

All in all, he was fighting against _a lot_ , and Wheeler was painfully aware of this. But like hell if he wasn't stubborn! And instinctual! And everything both inside and outside of his being told him this was _right_. So damn right.

The American chose to put aside words for the time being. He needed to be more practical, _hands on_. He bent his head to place tiny butterfly kisses on Linka's neck, her intoxicating scent confusing his bearings. He felt her quietly trembling in his arms by the time he'd reached her lips. With great care, he brushed his lips over her mouth, softly, again and again, until something like a moan escaped her. Wheeler pulled her closer to him, cradling her in his arms, and deepened their kiss until his tongue was blissfully exploring her mouth. He wasn't sure when she would pull away from his intimate contact, for she would have to be the one ending it, so he savored every lasting moment of it. It was better than his dreams, better than any reality he'd ever lived up until now. How could something as simple as a kiss suddenly hold so much meaning, so many different emotions? It stirred not only pure adrenaline inside of him, but tenderness, as well. Clearly, he cared far more for Linka than she would ever believe possible. It was unfortunate that she saw him as a flirty clown, really. Wheeler was more determined than ever now to prove to her that there was so much more to him. His depth would surprise her, he was sure of it, and more importantly, win her over.

By this point, their breathing was coming out in ragged unison, urgently seeking out oxygen, but Wheeler's need to taste her was greater. He could stay like this until dawn. Of next week. Linka's arms had coiled around his neck and his hands were caressing her bare shoulders. Velvet skin and a soft mouth were playing all kinds of havoc with his senses. Right now, their two very strong, _very different_ , personalities were at peace with each other. It was proof that they could peacefully coexist. All they had to do was throw in a pinch of passion, almost as if their energy had to be channeled in the right direction.

Wheeler's reasoning slowly dissipated, becoming dust in the wind. Gladness animated his soul as he continued kissing the one girl he had always admired, always wanted as his own. The glow he was feeling in his heart had to be as equally bright as the stars shining above them. It captivated him. The rest didn't matter for now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The parking lot wasn't nearly as crowded as he'd expected. Wheeler pulled in next to a black Sedan that had seen better days and got out, stretching his legs. The looming clouds in the distance threatened rain, and he pulled up the collar of his jacket against the cool breeze.

The American boy fell into step with his thoughts. Today, his father was being released from the hospital, and he'd promised his mom he'd be there to help take him home. Neither one of them had voiced it, but they both knew he was there solely for moral support. He wouldn't deny his mom that, never had.

The old man's liver surgery had gone well considering the amount of scar tissue that had formed over the years. Drinking your own body weight's worth in alcohol on a regular basis probably wasn't the best idea in the world, mused darkly Wheeler. He couldn't remember a time when a damn bottle of _something_ wasn't attached to his dad's hand. Birthdays, first days of school, bar mitzvahs, Easter egg hunts, Tuesdays. Wheeler's interactions with him had consisted primarily of screaming matches, or pushing contests, and the odd time his dad would send him out to buy booze. Not exactly a fuzzy-feeling type of relationship. Neither one approved of the other, and that seemed to be the only common ground between them.

The young man never understood how his mom coped with it all. Hell, she deserved a freakin' medal for _not_ flying the coop. Wheeler had been so eager to leave when Gaia had summoned him that he hadn't even packed properly. In the back of his mind, however, he often worried about his mom. Did she have enough money? Was dad shoving her around and calling her all names under the sun? Was this the kind of life she'd hoped for when she'd first married? Could she cope as well with her only son away? Things weren't so bad now that his dad had gotten older and sick, but Wheeler still felt guilty that his mom had to shoulder the weight alone. He called her often to lessen the remorse and let her know he _did_ care. It was just… he was learning that keeping everyone happy was one hell of an impossible crusade.

 _Happy_. Wheeler sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets as the hospital doors opened magically before him. Was _he_ happy? The night on the beach with Linka seemed like a distant dream to him now. Had that been yesterday? He wasn't even sure it had happened at all. Had they kissed with such complicity between them, had she let him feel her up, had he imagined the tender touch of her hands?

That night, he'd slept with a smile on his face. He'd been in a soft, love-filled bubble that carried over to his dreams. The fantastic blonde had starred in them, naturally, only this time, he'd had her lying on the sand and their clothes had been off. Needless to say, it had been one hell of an incredible dream, so incredibly sexy he'd needed a cold shower.

Wheeler had not been able to keep that heavenly feeling alive after he had woken up, however. It was morning, and the light of the sun was as if scorning him. Little by little, his happiness had morphed into a nervous frenzy. He'd bitten his nails to the bone while getting ready to leave Ecuador behind. If the past had taught him anything, it was that things never lasted more than a few hours with Linka. Sure, she could lose her reasoning for a split second, but then, once her logic caught up with her body, it was always back to business.

It had been different last night – he'd been open and she had allowed for increased physical closeness between them – but Linka had never committed to continuing anything with him. And she had the nerve to tease _him_ about being afraid of relationships! _Ha!_ She was too much like her beloved birds, beautiful and excessively free, never to be captured.

Wheeler had allowed himself the luxury of hope as he'd approached the Geo Cruiser, all the same. He did not know what else to do. He didn't quite know how to give up on Linka. It was something he wanted to spare his heart. He'd pulled her aside with a smile when he saw that she was finished with her safety check of the vehicle, still hopeful. He wasn't encouraged by the fact that she'd lowered her eyes, blushing slightly after a moment's pause. She had probably been analyzing last night from all possible angles, the sensual nature of it. Impatiently, and praying with all his might, he'd tentatively neared her to give her a kiss. Without a moment's pause, Linka had lifted a cool finger to his lips to stop him, meeting his eyes at last. Wheeler had wondered if she had been able to _see_ his heart breaking just then. Her rejection took up the space between them, dancing between the pair while throwing daggers straight at his heart.

"Wheeler," Linka had said in a quiet tone, shaking her head a bit. She'd run her tongue over her dry lips and sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. "We will talk when I come back… okay?" Her tone had been sad, pleading for him to understand. But her aloof stance had frozen Wheeler all over, he'd felt numb.

She'd told the team she would be spending one week in Washington with her uncle, since her brother Mishka was bringing his fiancée over from Russia so they could meet. They were eager to start planning for their wedding. It was understandable that Linka would be preoccupied with that, but it was no excuse for her behavior. It was clear that she did not want him, the American concluded, wondering if anguish could actually cause his heart to burst open and bleed. It was like an angry mother bear had clawed her way into his chest, leaving him dead on the ground. His breathing was coming out labored by now and he'd quickly walked past the desolate blonde to spare her the sorry sight. Wheeler's pride had kicked back in and he suddenly couldn't stand to be looking in her beautiful green eyes anymore. He'd been specific enough last night, he'd told her his biggest wish, and she had still chosen to ignore him.

The American had clenched his fists tightly by his sides, boarding the Cruiser without a word. He'd maneuvered into the lone seat at the back and with shaky hands dug out his headphones from his backpack. He'd put them on and looked out the window, before choosing the angriest song he could find on his playlist and turning the volume all the way up. The screams that filled his ears were somehow soothing, and he was thankful he would not have to socialize with the others for the duration of the trip. He was feeling as fragile as a Ming vase, hating the tightness in his throat. Wheeler had spent the rest of the trip fighting back the tears he wished he could cry.

* * *

"Can I help you?" a grey-haired nurse was calling to him, bringing him back to the present state of affairs. Shaking his head, Wheeler asked for directions to his dad's room, hoping to distract himself from the familiar burning sensation in his chest. It was like the scene following the fall of an asteroid in there. All smoke, darkness and desolation. The attractive redhead clenched his jaw. He'd vowed that he would not let himself think of Linka, at least for the duration of his trip back home.

And suddenly, Wheeler felt exhausted with the realization that it was _absolutely_ impossible. She was etched in his mind like a stubborn tattoo. It was unconceivable that he should not be allowed to think about the one thing he wanted most.

Thankfully, the distraction of driving his parents home took over, and he was glad for that. Wheeler assessed the older man as he drove, stealing peeks at him through the rearview mirror. His dad looked better, even though he'd lost weight. His skin wasn't yellowish-tinged as it had previously been, and that had to be a good sign.

The recovering man spoke little as his wife and son helped him settle into the bedroom. He limited himself to a few grumbles of annoyance. Wheeler then chose sit in the kitchen as his mom continued to fret over her "patient" in the bedroom. She had wheeled in the TV and fluffed up his pillows more than once, until his dad sent her away with a demand not to "coddle" him. He'd said it without his usual harshness, but his mom took the hint anyway and let him be. She was used to accommodating his erratic moods.

With a smile and a shrug for her son as she entered the room, she hurried to the stove to put the kettle on. He always remembered her like this, _busy_. Her hands were never idle and he wondered if that helped her keep away some of her thoughts. Except at the moment, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in years. The wrinkles around her eyes appeared less prominent, and the worried curl of her lips was smoothed in a straight line.

"How you doin', ma?" Wheeler asked with concern in his voice, shifting his weight in the uncomfortable wooden chair. One of them was still mismatched, a lighter color than the others, to replace the one his dad had smashed against the wall during one of his drunken rages years ago. The rest of the furniture was old but well-kept, the cupboards and counter a dark cherry color. His mom had hung up colorful dishrags to brighten the room a little, and a vase with sunflowers rested on the table.

She was intent on cutting up a loaf of what looked like chocolate and banana bread, and Wheeler watched her back as she moved with her work. She paid no heed to a strand of hair that had escaped her simple chignon.

"I'm fine, honey," she nodded in response, and her tone was sincere enough. "Doin' a lot better now that the money's coming in regularly. We got rid of some old debts. We're actually thinking of remodeling the bathroom, as well. Lord knows _that's_ needed!"

His mom blinked her clear blue eyes, a carbon copy of his, and went on to serve him a cup of tea. She scrutinized his face a little as he watched the steam swirl up from the cup, before taking place beside him at the table.

"The important question is, how are _you_?" she patted his arm affectionately and Wheeler cursed her motherly instincts just then, for they were always spot on. He had never been good at concealing things from her, but he tried to avoid giving her any more preoccupations than she already had. He did not want to get into the details of his ongoing battle with Linka, didn't want to think about the attractive blonde all together. The wound was still tender, and a burning sensation of both loss and unworthiness travelled through him, more poignant than the other times. It was a lethal current that threatened to destroy his sense of stability.

"All's well," Wheeler lied easily, with a slight shrug.

"You sure?" Her tone was dubious. _Damn_.

"Yeah… I'm just tired, ma. Yesterday I was in Ecuador, today I'm in Brooklyn. It's a crazy-ass life."

She sent him a cross look to warn him about his language, then offered him a piece of the sugary treat. She took a quick sip of her tea in the meanwhile.

"Well, I hope you can stay for a few days this time. It's so nice having you home, Jacob."

The redhead nodded, eating half-heartedly even though it was delicious. His stomach was in knots and he was feeling like dirt. He'd never imagined a girl could drive him to such extremes. He was forever in awe of the way Linka kept twisting and tangling his emotions, how she had free domain over his heart. It simply wasn't fair, given that she seemed to have no problems resisting _him_.

"I saw Trish the other day at the supermarket," his mom was saying, peeking up at him through half closed lids. "We talked a bit about the new art gallery that's going to be opening in Oak Square. Told her she'd be a perfect candidate for it, since she's such a wonderful painter and all. I think getting a job there would be exactly what she needs right now. I gotta say, she wasn't looking all that great. Pale, dark circles under her eyes. Lost a few too many pounds, too. Who knows what _other_ demons that poor girl's facing now. Said she's given up on you answering her phone calls, by the way."

A pang of guilt stabbed Wheeler in the chest. As if he couldn't feel any worse today. Trish had been his old neighbor, not to mention his high school sweetheart. They'd grown up together and had attempted a relationship of sorts when they were both teenagers. Too bad that at that stage in his life, Wheeler hadn't been keen on the idea of being stuck with one girl. He loved her, of course, but he wasn't really sure he had ever been _in love_ with her. When he'd joined the Planeteers, he and Trish had drifted considerably apart. He knew his mom adored Trish and encouraged her talent as an artist. She had gone as far as buying from Trish the beautifully haunting meadow portrait that hung in the master bedroom, wanting to support the girl as much as she could. Trish was in turn quite attached to his mom, since her family situation was even worse than Wheeler's, thus seeing in the older woman a kind of maternal figure she had desperately lacked growing up. His mom would always invite the teen over for dinner when his dad had more "mellow" nights, or when he was expected home late from work, and Trish had always looked forward to their times together. She had become an "adopted" member by that point, and Wheeler could still remember how she'd reach for his hand under the table to give it a squeeze as a sign of gratitude, affection.

His wistful thoughts were interrupted by his mom's voice and he newly turned to her.

"Why don't you pay her a visit, honey? I'm sure she would love to see you and it would do her a world of good. You're the only one who could ever get through to her, ya know."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is a _very_ long chapter, I found I just couldn't split it up! So make sure you have the time to sit down, relax, and enjoy. Oh, and some of you are going to hate me _very much_ at the end of it! _Muahahahaha…_ *ongoing evil laughter*

 **A friendly reminder of the M Rating in effect. Adult situations and language. **

* * *

Chapter 4

It was well after twilight by the time Wheeler followed his mom's directions to Trish's apartment. It was only ten blocs from his house, and he knew the area well. He was looking forward to seeing her, if he had to be honest with himself. Their last brief encounter had taken place over a year ago. A fleeting meeting where they'd hugged and summarized their life in all but five minutes, almost talking over one another before laughing it off. Trish had given him a belated birthday gift, a New York Rangers jersey and a matching ball cap, and he'd been moved by her sweet gesture. She'd shushed him when he had started telling her she shouldn't have, and her smile for him had been warm and sincere. It wasn't often she smiled so freely, but Trish had the kind of smile that was deeply contagious, maybe because it reached her chocolate eyes. She was irrational and passionate as a person, a true mirror to his own character, and that was why they understood each other so deeply.

Wheeler locked up his vehicle after parking beside Trish's fire-red Oldsmobile. "The flaming Phoenix", Trish had jokingly nicknamed the hideous old thing that would probably run as long as time. The name was a reference to their favorite comic book growing up, the X-Men. She'd pushed that clunker to the limit several times, but the car had always been faithful to its owner, and Wheeler had to admit that it had its charm.

As he started walking towards the building, Wheeler checked his phone out of habit to see if there were any missed calls. _Nothing_. He distractedly scrolled down his contacts list until he found Linka's name. The American sighed, disappointed that she hadn't tried to contact him. He clenched his jaw and ran the rest of the way to distract himself. _He wasn't gonna call_ _her_ , Wheeler stubbornly instructed himself. He shouldn't be thinking about the blonde girl all together. Every moment of that realization was like a sharpened shard of glass through his skin. It caused him too much anguish and, for once, he did not feel like putting himself through the torture. A part of his heart was bleeding at this new prospect, of going on without looking over his shoulder at Linka. It seemed even more impossible now that he'd properly tasted the heaven that was her mouth, the silk of her skin beneath his fingertips, the silhouette of her curves against his body. He knew deep down that he could never wipe all traces of her from his memory; he would always _want_ her, he would just have to coexist with that impossible desire. Sooner or later, he was bound to accept that Linka would always be just a mirage to him; a mere step away, yet clearly unattainable in so many ways.

Wheeler tried to push all this at the back of his mind, not without effort, and knocked on Trish's apartment door. He could hear a neighbor's stereo in the distance, but all else was quiet. Almost _too_ quiet. A few minutes passed. Furrowing his brow, he knocked again, more urgently this time. She was obviously home since her car was outside, so why wasn't Trish answering the door?

Blue eyes moved upwards to the flickering yellow light above the entrance, and he reached to cautiously look for a key beside it. If he knew Trish, she'd keep a spare there. His fingers met the cool metal and he grinned a little to himself. He _did_ know the dear girl pretty damn well. He probably knew her better than anyone else, he mused, turning the key in the door and pushing it open. Adversity did that, tied two people together for life. Somehow, scars left a deeper impact than sunshine.

"Hello?" Wheeler called out in the dim room. The front room was lit only by a lamp. There was a queen-sized bed in the back corner beside a window, and the curtains were drawn shut. The bed was unmade, and small piles of jeans and t-shirts littered the floor beside it. The adjacent couch was filled with art supplies, sketch books and white canvases, along with watercolors of all shades. He could smell the distinctive scent of oil pastels in the air, and a large portrait was drying propped up against a wall. It was hard to see its contents clearly in the lack of light. The area in the back was completely dark, a small kitchen, he assumed by process of elimination, and beside it was a door that was closed.

Trish was hunched over in a chair, her head resting on her folded arms over the desk. She was unmoving, and Wheeler closed the door softly behind him, not wanting to startle her had she fallen asleep.

"Trish?" he called quietly, squinting as he came closer to her. The young man wasn't sure why he felt a gripping wave of panic as he walked closer to her still figure. He'd always been a little spooked by his sort of sixth sense when it came to danger. Like the one time when the dam broke in Angola. Or when the main rotor blade on the Geo-copter started faltering and he had to make an emergency landing in a corn field in Western Canada. He'd felt the urgency even before the incidents had actually happened, and he wasn't feeling very 'puppies-wrapped-up-in-bright-rainbows' sort of a way at the moment. The adrenaline kicked in and his heart picked up its pace.

"Trish!" he repeated, more loudly this time, as his hands shook her bare shoulders. The girl's skin felt clammy even though she was wearing a tank top over a short pleated skirt.

Wheeler's eyes ran over her, looking for any indication of trouble. Her face seemed pale but he ascertained that she was breathing by the faint, rhythmic movements of her chest. Her hair was messy, covering her closed eyes. It was cut above her shoulders, curling at the ends and a bit knotty throughout. She'd long shed the platinum blonde style of her teen days for her natural light chestnut color.

Wheeler's heart all but stopped when he noticed the contents of her desk. His attention had been so focused on Trish he had not readily noticed the rest. There was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, some of its content spilled and soaking up some scrap pieces of paper nearby. A small container of prescription medicine was resting on its side, and a handful of peach colored pills were spilled about. _Xanax_ , the bold letters spelled out to Wheeler's horror.

" _Fuck_! Trish, wake up!" The redhead took her shoulders and shook her with more force, before moving his hands to lift her head. He was glad when she started mumbling incoherently in response, but she still needed to open her eyes.

"You gotta snap out of it, Trish! Come on," he coaxed her some more, wondering what the hell was going, all of a sudden. He had never believed for one second that she could be a harm to herself, so what had happened here? What crucial pieces had he missed along the way?

"Trish!" Wheeler continued incessantly, until finally, the girl slowly blinked her eyes open. Her glance was unfocused, far away. Trish did not even seem to notice his shaking her shoulders with such force.

"I am either dead… or dreaming…" her words were slurred, her lips curling into a messy smile as she met his worried eyes. There was a hollowness in her eyes that was haunting.

"Why would you say that? What the fuck is goin' on with you, Trish?" Wheeler could not help but be upset, and his tone sounded more aggressive than he would have liked. He wouldn't have guessed she could be capable of toying with death this way. Sure, she had often been reckless and wild in the past, especially in her teen years, but never to this extent.

Trish took no heed of his confusion and started giggling instead. "I'm seein' angels," she snorted a little to herself, and Wheeler moved to help her stand up, balancing her on her feet. He gingerly pulled her up by the arms, but she was highly unstable and groaned with the movement, all but tripping in the process.

"Now, this is important, sweets," Wheeler took in a deep breath and tried a different approach. He pushed away his anger and bewilderment for the time being and just focused on what was vital to help Trish survive this little stunt of hers. There would be time for explanations later, he was sure.

"How much medication did you take?" Wheeler asked, infusing his voice with as much gentleness as he could.

She squinted and took a step towards him, nearly falling with the movement. Wheeler pulled her closer to steady her. He saw the dark circles under her eyes his mom had alluded to earlier.

"I dunno…" Trish mumbled, swallowing audibly. Her lips were dry and she tried running her tongue over them. "A couple. Maybe a few. But everything's spinnin' now… Wheeler, I don't feel so good."

Her pallor alarmed him, and he was probably close to losing her again, since her eyes were closing involuntarily. _No!_ , his insides screamed with the brutality of a typhoon. He knew he had to get whatever it was she had consumed out of her; the lethal mix was claiming her body. Wheeler guided her with care, but with great speed, to what he assumed was the bathroom. As gently as he could, he settled her on the floor in front of the toilet, on her knees. Her body was shaking by this point and he sat beside her.

"Trish, listen to me. You gotta vomit this stuff. Get it outta your system. _Right now_. Can you do that? Just breathe, don't worry. I'm here with you, all right?"

He took her face in his hands as he spoke, watching as the recognition at his words registered on her face. She half nodded, squinting against the bright lights, and Wheeler patiently guided her fingers towards her mouth.

"Com'on, get it all out."

And that's what she did as he held her hair back from her face. It lasted a while, the deadly mixture of alcohol and meds coming out of her stomach in loud retches. Wheeler was sure the neighbors could probably hear the unpleasantness, but he could not care less if it meant Trish could avoid a trip to the ICU of the local hospital tonight. He was sure getting her stomach pumped wasn't on her _to-do_ list.

With weak hands, she flushed the toilet once she was finished and leaned her face against the adjacent tiles. Her forehead was bathed in sweat, her eyes tearing up with the effort, and her hands would not stop shaking. Her body seemed spent to the limit. Much to Wheeler's relief, however, her breathing was coming out more evenly now. The poor girl had been gulping down bouts of oxygen for the past ten minutes in an effort to keep up.

Trish's eyes were fluttering to a close, her arms losing their tight grip on the toilet, no longer hugging it like a long-lost friend. Wheeler frowned to himself, not sure if he should be letting her lose consciousness so quickly after such a frightening incident.

Trish groaned audibly when the red-headed boy tried pulling her to her feet, and the way her eyes kept losing their focus let Wheeler know his instincts were spot on. He needed to keep her awake for a while longer, let her senses come back from the dark side she had been trudging on.

"How 'bout a nice shower before bed? It'll clear your head."

"I wanna sleep!" murmured darkly Trish, steadying herself against him only to push him away a second later. Her fuddled efforts were foiled by her much quicker companion.

"Come on, doll face, I'll help ya," Wheeler smiled a little at her protest and the way her brows furrowed together in irritation. At least she hadn't lost her fiery little personality! This pleased him, and he nearly laughed when she swatted at his hands. Given, he _was_ trying to lift up her top, but it was only to get her in the shower; it was really for _her_ benefit!

"You just want an excuse to take my clothes off," Trish gave him a loopy grin with a sideway glance that caused Wheeler to snicker. He affectionately patted her head, which reached his shoulders, and gave her an exaggerated wink.

"Yeah, you know me too well."

Trish giggled happily for a moment, and Wheeler took her distraction as an opportunity to further undress her. Her top came off, her skirt was next, until she stood before him in only her bra and panties. She'd become a willing marionette as he worked, without putting up any more resistance for him. Her eyes seemed far away once more. Wheeler tried not to focus on the black lace of her undergarments or her eyes, and looked up at the fluorescent lights, instead, while he walked her to the shower. Still, from the corner of his eyes, he could not help but appraise her nicely shaped body. She had lost a few pounds for sure, but it didn't look bad on her, since she'd retained the roundness of her curves. He wasn't sure why all of a sudden he felt the need to compare Trish to Linka physically, but his brain had already embarked on that road. The American girl was shorter than the Russian, although Trish had a few cup sizes on Linka in the chest department. Linka was more graceful and lean, but Trish had something sensual to her. It was in the way she carried herself, an aura. Perhaps it was the fact that she took no bullshit from others; or maybe it was the small percentage of Latin blood in her, Wheeler couldn't tell. While Linka was in-your-face beautiful, conventional, Trish had a prettiness that was unique to her person. He tried his hardest not to conjure up images of Trish naked underneath him, sharing his bed like they'd so often done in the past. _Could his thoughts be any more inappropriate?_ , Wheeler inwardly groaned, distracting himself by turning on the jet of the water and setting it to cold.

With gentle words of comfort for his friend, Wheeler helped her into the shower before closing the glass door behind her. He watched her wrapping her arms around her frame as the cold water hit her, almost to protect herself, but she made no move to escape. Her face was lifted towards the water, her eyes closed, and her lips sealed. Trish was very still, as if she were pondering deep musings.

Keeping his alert eyes on her, Wheeler sighed and pulled down the lid of the toilet so he could sit down. He could barely believe he'd been so out of touch with Trish. Had it really been so long since they'd talked? What was going on in her life? What was pushing her to act this way, to give up on things when she'd always embodied the spirit of a true fighter?

Everyone in their neighborhood was aware of Trish's story. Some people respected her, others feared her when she'd become involved in a small gang. Others would simply shake their head, "what a shame," they'd gossip at the local corner market while choosing cold cuts for lunch. Wheeler knew too well what it was like to be pitied by others, a feeling he did not wish on his worst enemy.

Trish had grown up without a father, had never actually met him, to be exact. _Too bad it wasn't the same with her mom_ , mused darkly Wheeler, watching as Trish slid down to a sitting position against the wall of the shower. Pulling up her knees, she rested her head on them, the water modeling her hair against her shoulders and back. She seemed so fragile, so little for once. The water continued to pound on her, bringing consciousness, and she resigned to it silently.

Her mother had never really had her daughter's best interests at heart. Angel Cole was her maiden name. Ironically, there was absolutely nothing _angelic_ about her. She was your typical hussy, going from man to man in the hopes of finding the right one who could fix the mistakes of the last. Wheeler and the rest of his friends would forever remember her miniskirts and high heels. Even his dad had once referred to Angel as "Trish's slutty mother." She could never hold down a job for very long. Sometimes she'd try waitressing, others cashiering, but trouble seemed to swirl about her so much that she would end up jobless and scorned. Trish had to bear the brunt of her failures, and at a tender age, she had learned how to scrounge clothes and food from the neighbors in order to survive. When she was little, she would always be mismatched, her clothes either too big or too out of date, until she learned later on that she could get cool clothes from the mall for free. As in, _stealing_ them. The cops had taken her home in their cruiser a few times thanks to her little habit, but even the police knew that Trish's family situation was hopeless, not bound to change.

Sometimes, her mom would lock Trish up in the basement while she partied with her friends upstairs. The basement wasn't exactly in the best condition, either. It was damp and smelled of mildew, and it was filled with all kinds of useless and forgotten junk that took on scary shapes in the dark. One time, Wheeler had found the poor girl drinking from the Smith's hose out back after being forgotten in the basement for two days in a row. Trish had been parched and crying. He wasn't sure if she had been more hurt or ashamed at that point. All he knew was the fury he'd felt. He remembered it well. How was it possible that Trish had become some sort of shapeless ghost to her mom? Why did the older woman resent her so much and not care for her properly?

Things became a little brighter for Trish once they'd started dating. Wheeler became a positive distraction for her; she abandoned her gang and tried her hand at painting, instead. Turned out she had a hidden talent for it. She enjoyed being at his house, especially spending time with his mom, giving a hand around the house or simply sitting about with her sketch books. Trish was also one of the few people who could hold up an actual conversation with his dad. He didn't seem to be irritated by her at all, and she'd smile at the older man as a sign of gratitude and friendship.

Trish had always fit into his family naturally. His parents accepted her, and she was the only person who truly understood his rants and frustrations with life. She had always been able to guess by one look at him when things weren't okay, and she'd sit him down, get him to calm down and open up. Wheeler had always liked the way she listened, for her entire attention was focused on the task at hand. She never interrupted him or passed judgment, she would simply nod her head or make some witty comment to get him smiling again. He now wondered what would have happened if they hadn't been so young and troubled when they'd started dating. He was aware that Trish had always harbored a deep adoration for him, and now that he thought about it, she had been happiest when they had been an item.

The American tried not to bring to consciousness the other great memories associated with Trish, in vain. He recalled clearly how fun and flirty she was in bed, willing to please him, loving. Nothing was off limits with her, and her passion had been something. Neither one of them had been virgins the first time they had sex together, but both were aware that something special had taken place. It was surely because they did not have any walls between them, and a sincere friendship tied them together. Wheeler remembered that they could barely keep their hands off each other back then, and readily attributed it to teenage hormones. That justification was safer for the time being, anyway, he reflected pensively.

Wheeler brought himself to the present and stood up before walking briskly to turn the water off. Letting Trish freeze to death was not part of his rescue mission, surely! She had curled into a ball in a corner of the shower, and he knew the streams of water on her face had tears mixed in. With as much tenderness as he could, he lifted her to her feet, making it a point of looking directly in her eyes while helping her out of her soaked undergarments, before wrapping her in a clean towel. She let him blow dry her hair delicately, and by the time he was finished, her skin was pink again. She looked much healthier and not so desolate. The only give away were her sad eyes, an aftermath of a tough battle fought and lost.

Wheeler took her hand and led her into the other room so they could sit on the bed. She chose to silently occupy his lap, and he offered no resistance. Wheeler held her close, rocking her back and forth a little, his cheek resting against her wavy locks. Trish breathed him in contently, her head positioned in the crook of his neck, while her arms were securely wrapped around his back. They stayed like this for a while until he thought she had fallen asleep, but when he looked down at her, her eyes were open and fixed on the floor.

"Wanna talk?" Wheeler tentatively asked, his hands rubbing her bare shoulders and neck in an effort to offer comfort. She leaned into his touch like a cat basking in the sun.

After a moment's pause, Trish sighed and shook her head a little. "What is there to say, Wheeler? He just… left. And if I have to serve one more cup of coffee in that beat-ass-down diner, I _swear_ I will jump off a bridge next."

Wheeler frowned and pulled her away a little so he could meet her eyes. There was an anger in her tone he thought she had lost years ago.

"Woah, woah, that's enough death talk out of you! I'm serious, Trish. This wasn't cool at all. Now can you please start making some sense? What are you talkin' about? And _who_ is it that left?"

Trish sighed, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She fidgeted with her fingers at length before looking up at him at last.

"I was seein' this one guy. Turns out he's fuckin' married! He made me believe he would leave his wife for me. But when I confronted him about it, he wasn't sure at all anymore. So I kicked his ass out for good! Only… I didn't think I would be this upset about it."

"Sounds like a real winner," Wheeler mumbled, rolling his eyes skywards. "Fuck! What were you doin' with someone like that, anyway?"

"Yeah, yeah, make it sound like the guys are just linin' up at my door!" Trish shoved him away a little and Wheeler could not help but laugh. She was adorable when she curled her lips in that tough little pout of hers.

"From what I remember, you never had problems with guys wanting to date you."

"Well, you've been away too long, then." Her tone was still mocking, but there was an undercurrent of accusation in it now. Wheeler could not help but feel like a total jerk as a result. He had been too distant, too willing to erase her from his life like the rest of his past. Trish had always looked out for him, and she didn't deserve his cold shoulder one bit. She was one of the few rays of light that had lit up his difficult existence in Brooklyn.

"I've been a bastard, you're right. Fucked up big time. But you'll forgive me, right, sweets?" He pulled her in and cuddled her closer, and this softened her exterior shell. He could always do that well. Her shoulders relaxed and she rested against him as if she were weightless.

"As if I have a choice," she mumbled, but Wheeler could hear the smile in her voice, and he took it as a small victory.

Then, Trish sighed and her tone became more serious, her voice quieter and sincere. "I missed you a lot, Jake. This is what happens when you're not here. I get in a shitload of trouble, and there's no one there to pick up the pieces. Sometimes I feel so _alone_ , I can't stand it."

"You're _not_ alone," remarked readily Wheeler, tightening his grip around her waist. Her tone was tear-inducing, and the fact that he could relate all too well to her words touched his heart even more. He'd felt breathlessly lonely many times in his young life, especially before becoming a Planeteer. A palm tree swaying desolately in the desert. Wheeler realized, not without a pang in his heart, that he still carried residual pieces of that grey loneliness inside. It fed his insecurities, his sense of worth, more times that he liked to let show. He often preferred to mask it with cockiness and obnoxiousness on his part.

"My mom is always there for you, you know that by now. Whatever you need. You're like a daughter to her, sweets. And I promise to do a better job at being there for you, too, from now on. You just have to kick my ass in gear a bit."

Trish gave a sniffly laugh, blinking back what was threatening to spill down her cheeks. She buried her face deeper in his chest, and she was still for a moment.

When she spoke again, she injected her tone with more cheerfulness than she probably had inside her at the moment, if only for his sake, Wheeler guessed.

"That's enough about me, seriously. My life will always be utterly fucked up, I think. Tell me what you've been up to, instead. I mean, _besides_ gettin' deliciously buff and hooking up with all kinds of girls."

She was teasing him, and he grinned as she ran an appreciative hand over his firm biceps. They both laughed a little before Trish continued her exploration, reaching up to glide a hand in his hair next. He kept it shorter these days, not having the time to deal with its rebellious mess. The symmetry of it also seemed to complement his firm jaw line more.

"I like your hair this way," Trish spoke softly, moving away a little to look in his eyes. Wheeler suppressed a tingling feeling at her affectionate touch. Her eyes were emanating a soft light that he remembered all too well. In the past, when she used to look at him that way, they'd usually end up rolling around in bed for a while.

Her dark eyes kept his glance prisoner and he heard her sigh contently, while her fingers continued to stroke the back of his head with gentle movements. Wheeler held his breath, not wanting to break whatever spell was being cast.

"This is nice," voiced Trish with a lazy smile, blinking her eyes into his. The tone of her voice lulled him. It was hushed and hypnotic. Her body was warm pressed up against his, and her breath against his skin felt intimate, familiar.

"Being here with you… like this… it brings back such great memories, Wheeler. You and me… it was probably the only thing I got right in my life. And then I lost you."

"Trish," Wheeler interjected, slightly shaking his head. He wasn't sure going down memory lane was helping the delicate situation at the moment. It was like re-living the concept of dry land before a terrible flood. He wasn't here to win her over, after all, nor rekindle any past flame between them.

"It's been hell without you, really," Trish went on, as if she hadn't been interrupted. She bit her lower lip with such force Wheeler feared she would draw blood from it. Her eyes became glossy with emotion, and she breathed out steadily to calm the flow of her thoughts.

"You're the only guy that's ever treated me with respect. Like I matter. I was just a play thing to others, a past time. But you… you have the ability to just read me, as if I'm some open book you already know the ending to. I don't have to explain anything to you, you just _get it_ , you know? I miss that, Jake. I miss having that in my life, a safe place to hide. I miss your warmth, your lame-ass jokes, your questionable taste in take-out, the way you'd shield me with your body when we'd stroll through the East side and you feared trouble was up. I miss how we'd steal someone's car for the night and go cruisin' until dawn, with no place to go, really, just desiring to be together doin' nothing."

Her tone lowered and her mouth neared his slowly. Wheeler's heartbeat had picked up considerably at this point. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins, his deep intake of breath as Trish caressed the side of his face.

"I miss waking up next to you after spending a pretty fabulous night together."

And just like that, her mouth was on his, hot and needy, demanding his immediate attention. Her eyes were closed as she abandoned herself to him, and Wheeler felt a vortex of heat sucking him in at her contact. He moaned into her passion for just a second, before reason took over. Cold, unyielding reason that insisted on putting out the flame.

"Trish," Wheeler managed to get out, pulling away from her lips. His voice broke with something like bewilderment. Mostly at how amazingly warm the contact was, as if the immense time and space that had separated them until now had never really existed.

Wheeler shook his head to clear his dangerous thoughts, and his hands gripped her arms a little more firmly. Trish had furrowed her brows by now, eyes looking up at him questioningly.

"Sweetie, you know I love you," Wheeler spoke softly to her, and his words rang true and affectionate. He let his fingers trace her jaw, his eyes never leaving hers. He really had no right giving her any sort of hope, not when his heart wasn't completely his to give away anymore. "But what we had… it was a long time ago. We've both changed since then, Trish."

Trish bit her lip and blinked her long eyelashes a couple of times before focusing on him. Her eyes were liquid caramel at this point, and the emotion in them was as apparent as dawn over crystal waters.

"Wheeler, I don't want to think about the past or the future right now. I just want to focus on the present, on this moment. How amazing it feels to be with you like this… how _right_."

With determination that was true to her character, she wrapped herself around him and claimed his mouth once again. It was urgent need and slow passion and Wheeler momentarily lost his head to it. It was familiar, yet more _mature_ than he remembered, more deliberate somehow. It was a strange sensation to have his body warming up to Trish's touches while his mind was rebelling like workers on strike.

Wheeler newly pulled away, not without effort this time, unsure and conflicted. He kept reminding himself that she was fragile right now, still shaken up over her failed attempt to hurt herself. _Get a grip, asshole_ , he angrily coached himself. It was so disconcerting that his body would react so willingly in such a situation. He didn't want to add to her full load of anguishes!

"Trish, stop…" he let out warningly, breathing heavily and trying to keep her at arm's length. Not that he _wanted_ her to do that, but he figured his logic was right to be drilling him so mercilessly.

"Jake, please," Trish moaned out, her tone equal parts exasperated and sad. Her bottom lip was quivering; it could be due to anger, desire, determination, Wheeler was unclear. Her arms wrapped around his frame in a final, stubborn attempt to convince him.

"I need _this_ , I need _you_. Don't you see? You'll break my heart if you walk away now. How could I deal with a rejection from you when I want you so bad, baby? Please?"

Her voice was that of a siren, and Wheeler lost his battle to it. Logic spiraled out of his grip to be momentarily lost to him. The minutes that followed were a blur of repressed needs and selfish physicality between the old couple. Somehow, Trish managed to rid him of his shirt and her warm hands on his naked torso won him over some more.

It'd been a while since the American Planeteer had been with a woman. Over a year ago, he'd had a one-night-stand in Paris. _Totally unplanned_ , he'd tried to reason with himself since then to ease up his conscience. He wasn't really that kind of guy. But he'd walked into a bakery to get breakfast for the crew and there she'd been, behind the counter, a gorgeous young woman in a flowery dress with a Mona Lisa smile. He didn't know any French and her English had been very limited, but when he'd ran into her again on the street at nightfall purely by chance, she'd had no problems convincing him that they should take a tour of her tiny apartment above the bakery. He'd loved the musical notes to her moans as he'd claimed her body, and that's when he'd decided that the French language was very romantic, indeed.

He was a young man with needs, and concentrating his attention on environmental disasters day in and day out was starting to take its toll on the Fire Planeteer. His peers were out there having fun and living life, after all; there were times he felt too constricted by his current lifestyle, caged in. At the moment, Wheeler's body was hungry for passion, for what Trish was so desperately trying to give him. It didn't feel wrong with her… _was_ it wrong?

His mind stopped reasoning when the pretty woman on his lap undid the towel wrapped safely around her body, the very one he'd put in place to safeguard her modesty, until it pooled at their feet on the floor. Beautifully shaped breasts and pert nipples greeted him, begging for a touch, and he complied, unblinking. Trish moaned in approval, throwing her head back, when his mouth followed the exploration, tongue tasting her.

Even in her pleasure haze, the American girl craftily searched for, then found, the zip on his jeans and undid it hastily. She stroked his erection along the way, smiling at the deep growls coming out of him. Her sighs mixed into their open-mouthed kisses. She lost no significant time positioning herself over his hardness, sure of her movements as if her life depended on it. Wheeler felt himself inside her fiery core in a matter of mere moments. She was driving him in with the rhythmic movements of her hips oscillating over his.

"Ohhh… oh, yeah…" Trish let out breathlessly above him, finding his mouth and letting their tongues collide. She ground herself against him, setting a frenzied yet calculated pace.

"Fuck," Wheeler breathed out shakily, grabbing her in order to drive himself deeper into her. She was heaven, hot and so wet for him; it was driving him mad with need. All else fled from his mind in that instant; animalistic desire took over.

"Ahh… don't…" she moaned out helplessly in response, closing her eyes and letting her untamed curls fall over her back like cascading water. "I'll… ahhh… fuck, baby… I won't last long if you keep that up!"

All the same, she picked up the pace, her breasts bouncing wildly against his chest, until she was riding him purposefully. Wheeler kept her in place, his hands firm on her hips to further guide her efforts. She moved frenetically up and down his length, kissing him greedily, until he felt she was close. Their bodies moved in sync, and he buried himself deep inside her, filling her, until she reached her peak. Trish's body arched against his, and she screamed out his name in release, vibrating. Wheeler reveled in her velvety warmth, her scent, until he lost control himself. He welcomed the intoxicating, pulsating light that came from crossing the threshold to sensory pleasure, abandoning himself to it.

His breathing was wild as beads of sweat cooled on his back. His head turned to catch the reflection of the moon coming in through the window. Wheeler couldn't quite place why this imagery should bother him so. Its light was pale, ethereal, and accusing.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I _did_ promise angst, didn't I? Hee hee, I was just checking your loyalty to L/W, and I see that it's pretty solid :) But don't forget that they are not technically a couple as of now, but I can see how you would be angry with Wheeler... he's being pretty naughty! On with the show...

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Chapter 5

Wheeler ran both his hands through his tussled hair, sighing heavily. He leaned forward in his chair, ignoring the pain in his muscles. The red, angry-looking numbers on the bedside alarm clock read 3:45am, and he'd been sitting like this for the past couple of hours, at least. It would take too much mental energy to do anything else, and his mind was filled with dynamite as it was. His brain was one tiny step away from imploding.

Trish was sleeping peacefully on one side of the bed, hugging the sheets close to her naked form. Her breathing was even, her face set in a serene mask, completely unaware of the troubled red-headed boy battling insomnia inches from her bed.

 _I'll never sleep again_ , fretted Wheeler in despair, examining a jaggedly bitten thumbnail that was proving impossible to even out. His chest felt tight, a panic attack looming around the corner, ready to use his body as a host. It wasn't unlike the one time he'd come very close to drowning in that cable car that had gone off the tracks. The most horrible experience in his life, followed soon after by the best, since Linka had wrapped him in a giant embrace when she saw that he was miraculously alive. He still remembered her tears and the warmth of her body against his. He had etched all details to memory like one does a sacred inscription.

The guilt he felt coupled with images of Linka's face flashing through his mind almost drew all oxygen from his lungs. He felt so numb over the evening spent with Trish, he wondered if it ever really took place. It seemed like a faint mirage that threatened to devastate his entire existence.

A piercing consideration made its way out of the haze and into his consciousness, paralyzing his limbs. _You had sex with Trish_ , his mind sneered, taunting his delicate nerves. He blinked his eyes, willing the pain in his chest to stop burning like a supernova. No such luck. Even though he'd had a good time with a girl he cared for, a girl he knew well, all he could think about was how he'd betrayed the Russian girl. The pain was now throbbing, as if he'd added gasoline to the fire.

Wheeler tried consoling himself in many ways, but he knew even before attempting that route, that he would never feel blameless again. Sure, Trish had needed him, so it was really like he'd been helping out a cherished friend through a tough time. He'd made her feel good about herself again, about life, proved to her that deep affection could heal many wounds. His hero complex had played into that a little bit, surely. And it wasn't like there was anything _official_ between him and Linka, anyway. They weren't _dating_ , she wasn't his _girlfriend_ , they weren't really _anything_. Hell, she had readily pushed him away when he'd declared his true intentions to her! So easily, so carelessly! As of current, she was just a girl he'd kissed, made out with on a few occasions. So what if she persistently haunted his brain like a restless ghost does a graveyard? So what if he was secretly and permanently in love with her?

The pain in his chest threatened to choke him, and he closed his eyes against it, leaning his head back until it touched the wall. Had he cheated on Linka? Did this _count_? Would she ever consider giving him a chance now if she somehow suspected he had given in to his ex? Could he start something with her, without having his conscience gnaw away at him, tearing him up piece by piece?

And Trish! Had she dug her own grave by believing that he was in love with her? How could he crush that hope in her, when her life already resembled a devastated area hit by a violent hurricane? Would she take him seriously when he'd so willingly abandoned himself in her arms? Didn't great sex imply something, like the start or the continuation of a relationship of sorts? Could he really just walk out of her life now with a careless, "see ya later, I'll call!" without feeling like utter dirt?

Wheeler felt twice as ill when he realized he may have hurt both girls tonight. One with careless actions, and the other with empty words. He decided he was no better than any one of the Eco-villains they all hated so much, repulsive, conniving, dishonest, and… and…

The American let out a shaky breath, fighting to keep the tears at bay. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss for what to do. Anger and guilt swirled inside his veins, spreading like lethal viruses. What he felt for Linka was stronger than any mistake he could ever make, damn it! He was ever so certain of it. So why were his insides torn so much?

He couldn't have been more glad when the clock announced that it was seven in the morning. Wheeler got up from his post and hurried to the kitchen. He had to find a way to keep busy or else he'd burst with all the negative thoughts flowing freely inside him. Wheeler lost no time, checking this and that cupboard for the things he needed to make breakfast. He wanted to clear his head, and for that, he needed mundane tasks to occupy his attention.

Once the coffee was put on, he inspected Trish's fridge. He found nothing of interest there, even though his stomach would probably refuse the most deliciously prepared food at the moment. Toast seemed like the better alternative, and he felt victorious when he detected some sliced bread tucked between two cereal boxes. More luck ensued, since he found both butter and jam.

Once the coffee was ready, he'd thought up a plan of action, as well. He would simply have to be honest with both girls. And most importantly, be ready to face the risky consequences. That is, he could lose two very important people in his life, all because of the shitty way he'd played his cards. He had nobody to blame but himself, and now all he could do was make amends.

"Hmmm, what smells so great?" a sleepy mumble came from the doorway, and Wheeler nearly jumped. He'd spent the entire night alone with his thoughts, and another voice added to the conversation seemed strange to him at first. Taking in a deep breath, he looked up from his work.

Trish was standing in the doorway, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, looking well-rested. She was wearing only a t-shirt that reached mid-thigh on her, her hair tousled and falling softly on her shoulders, one hand placed on the wooden doorframe.

Wheeler attempted a smile, then steadied his slightly trembling hands by pouring hot coffee into two clean mugs. Something told him he was going to need a lot of caffeine to deal with the rest of the day.

"Breakfast?" he asked after clearing his throat. His voice came out a lot more confident than he was feeling, and he was glad for that talent.

Trish's smile was bright and sincere as she neared him. Her arms moved effortlessly to hug him around the waist, and Wheeler grabbed her elbows to stop her collision into him. Her eyes met his curiously, and she stopped mid-movement like a string-doll.

"Trish… let's sit down for a sec. I have something I wanna say to you."

His voice was gentle enough but Trish recoiled from him as if he'd hit her. His conscience was in the meanwhile burning up like coals over a fire.

"Please?" Wheeler added, reaching down to softly stroke her cheek while looking in her eyes.

"All right," Trish mumbled slowly with a head nod, before silently occupying a kitchen chair. Her demeanor had lost the spark of moments ago, and they sat wordlessly sipping coffee for a few moments. Wheeler sighed, then turned to face her before speaking.

"Listen, I feel pretty horrible for taking advantage of you last night. Because you were vulnerable and, well, it was very wrong of me."

Trish placed one hand over his knee and shook her head gently. "You shouldn't have any regrets, Wheeler. I sure as hell don't! Last night was… _amazing,_ actually. You'd never take advantage of anyone, let alone me, so don't worry about it."

Her tone was light and sugary, and she shrugged at his pained expression as if it were nothing. He watched as she picked up a piece of toast and began spreading some jam over it. Apparently, she didn't view the whole incident as tragic as he did.

After a moment's pause, Trish continued. "I never stopped thinking about you all this time. I get that you needed to get out there, leave Brooklyn behind. I thought about it myself, many times, if I'm being honest. A fresh start somewhere else, ya know? But I never had the courage. Something always held me back. I guess I always hoped you'd come home sooner or later."

"But that's the thing, I'm not _back_ ," Wheeler disclosed over a whisper, his tone filled with regret.

Trish chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to him. "Maybe not now, but someday you might." Her tone was so hopeful and loving it left the American boy speechless.

She took his hand and squeezed it, looking up at him unabashed. "I have to believe that, Jake. I'll go crazy otherwise. You're the only piece that fits in my life."

Wheeler watched their linked hands and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He could tell her words were sincere by the warmth in her eyes, and he felt even more unworthy. What had he done to deserve such affection? But he needed to be clear with her, he didn't want to dish out any more false hope than he already had. It was only fair to Trish.

"Darlin', maybe you just need to focus on all the other positives in your life, too. Like your art. You have a gift, and it's time to use it! My mom told me about the new art gallery, why don't you take that on?"

Trish shrugged and let go of his hand. She was probably getting annoyed at his attempt to take the focus off _him_. She played with the mug on the table before meeting his eyes again.

"I don't know…"

"You'd be fuckin' perfect for it! Why don't you at least interview for the position?"

The dark haired girl bit her lip and her eyes became sad, like a graying skyline filled with rain. She'd always had problems with self-confidence, and many times she let her fears paralyze her. She'd never encountered enough reassurance in her life to keep her hopes alive. Wheeler stroked her cheek, then lifted her chin up so that she would look at him.

"I'll come with you. Let me help."

She sighed and half nodded, somewhat putting an end to their conversation for the time being. Trish was lost in thought for the remainder of breakfast, and Wheeler tried not to break her concentration. Finally, she rose from the table, taking the empty dishes to the sink. He watched her take cautious steps towards him before her arms linked around his neck from behind. Her lips softly brushed his cheek and her voice was low when she spoke again.

"I'm not giving up on you. I want you to know that."

* * *

The rest of the day was spent at Wheeler's house. His mom started cooking right away, ecstatic at having a guest over. She made a show of hugging Trish tight and joking around with her, giving meaningful glances to her son all the while. Hope sparkled in her eyes, and Wheeler groaned to himself. His mom was under the impression that a reunion of sorts had taken place, and he had to admit that it certainly felt that way at the moment. It was as if things were back to the days before he became a Planeteer, when they had been one "happy" family. Frozen in time, unchanged. He hadn't yet decided if that was good or bad.

Trish walked into the bedroom where his dad was resting, and after a few minutes of conventional chit-chat, she started reading the sport section of the paper out loud for his dad. He would cut in every now and again with a comment of his own, and their banter resembled that of old buddies. His mom was bursting with glee at the way things were playing out, and her actions were filled with a sort of smug mirth, as if she had anticipated this turn of events. She was a bit of a romantic, that way.

"Trish is looking a lot better, she seems happy," she chirped, setting the table carefully.

Wheeler added nothing as he leaned against the counter, watching as a blissful smile played on his mom's face. She was undoubtedly piecing together who knows what wild fantasy of hers, dreams of her son finally settling down, he guessed, and Wheeler suddenly felt exhausted. It seemed that everyone had become an expert on what was best for him, how things ought to go in his life… he wished he were that confident himself! Hell, he felt nothing if not lost at the moment.

Sure, this "get-together" was _nice_ , it was comfortable, routine, but it wasn't what he truly wanted. He didn't want his old life from a few years ago. He had outgrown it, was way past it. He missed Hope Island, being a Planeteer, and most of all, he missed Linka. He missed their erratic relationship, the craziness of it all. He longed for one of her looks, a shy smile, a furtive kiss. He missed the way his heart would respond to all that. It was totally against his best interests, he mused, but he still preferred Linka's careful ambiguity over Trish's blatant love. Wheeler only hoped his masochistic tendencies would not destroy him someday.

For now, he decided to avoid giving his mom any sort of explanation. He didn't have the heart to crush her daydreams, however silly and inaccurate they may have been. It was rare she was so joyous and carefree, and he wasn't going to be the one to rain on her parade. Not today, at least. Time would undoubtedly reveal all things.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I wanted to quickly comment on my last chapter. To my Guest, thank you so much for your thoughts, I really appreciate your feedback. I can understand how easy it would be to hate Wheeler after what he's done, but keep in mind that him and Linka are simply flirting back and forth at this point. Kind of like in the episodes, where Linka dated Greg and Wheeler went after other girls. They haven't committed to each other yet. Even though Wheeler has "declared" his feelings, he thinks that Linka is not interested yet AGAIN, and this messes with his head a bit, even more so than the other times she's rejected him. He's confused, as any of us would be! At this point, he thinks he'll never have a serious chance with Linka, even though he loves her. Now, I'm not justifying his actions or condoning them, but I did want to portray him as an ordinary young man (mistakes and all) and less "super romantic" (as we all tend to do in fanfic). I strongly believe he would NEVER cheat on Linka if she were serious about starting a relationship with him, though, so don't fear! The Wheeler you all know and love is still in there, but I don't wanna give too much away! So just keep reading and have faith :) THANK YOU!

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Chapter 6

The week went by like a whirlwind and before he knew it, Wheeler was saying goodbye to his parents and Trish. He realized with sheer pleasure that his presence had cheered everyone up, most of all Trish. She'd let him drive her to the job interview, after all, and even though initially very nervous, she had seemed confident about it once it was over.

The real challenge had been trying to dissuade her all week long from holding his hand or kissing him. Trish was very comfortable with physical contact and she had always shown affection that way, but Wheeler did his best to let her down gently. She understood his unwillingness to start up anything between them again, but something in her eyes also told him that she would use patience as her guide. Trish believed that he would one day realize all he needed was back in Brooklyn; he wasn't so sure of it.

The American couldn't deny the bout of happiness he felt in seeing the Geo-Cruiser land in order to pick him up. It felt like seeing the sunrise after a very long night of darkness. He victory-danced his way on board, making a show of it, then hugged Ma-Ti and kissed Gi loudly on the cheek. The Asian Planeteer swatted at him with a laugh, before informing him that Kwame had stayed behind and that the next stop was picking up Linka in Washington. They would also have to power up the vehicle there for the long trip back home.

Getting to the other side of the States seemed to take mere seconds as he lightly chatted and joked with his two best friends. While Gi prepared for landing, Wheeler felt a jittery sense of euphoria in seeing Linka again. He was willing to overlook the less than pleasant way they had parted, the anguish his heart had carried, as long as he got to look in her bright green eyes once more. He decided it was better fighting with her than being without her at all. At this point, he had no choice but accept whichever way, shape, or form she chose to be present in his life. His pride and self-preservation had long gone to hell when it came to her, anyway. He would probably never be free of the silky, lethal web Linka had spun over him. It forever seemed to cloud his judgment like morning fog, leaving him blind.

Wheeler was secretly envious of the way Gi ran to Linka to embrace her once the Cruiser touched the ground. He wished Linka would allow _him_ to do that, wished away the stupid façade that had been created between them. He quietly stood off to one side, watching her as she greeted the other two Planeteers, his heart pathetic and bleeding at her beauty. She seemed happy and relaxed, her hair in luxurious blonde waves that brushed her shoulders when she moved.

Gi and Ma-Ti then moved away to check on the remaining energy level of the Cruiser, and Linka finally looked up at him. Wheeler stilled for a moment, lost in her glance. She was the one who took the first steps forward, towards him.

"Hello, Yankee," Linka smiled prettily, once she stood facing him. Her face contained none of the combatant feelings he had seen there the last time they'd talked.

"Hey," Wheeler replied curtly, with a slight head nod. For the first time, he felt unsure around her. For the past week, he had been trying to convince himself that it was over between them, that he could no longer sustain the madness of their messy situation, that their ludicrous games were killing him little by little. But now that she stood facing him, within touching distance, he knew he'd been a fool to even _consider_ being without her. Linka confused his bearings worse than a tropical storm, and he was full on in her trajectory, always had been.

When she spoke again, her voice cut through his quarrelsome thoughts. "How are things at home? And your father, he is all right after the surgery?"

The fact that she cared about these things further melted his resistance, for her voice was filled with genuine warmth. Although he hadn't shared any major details with her or the rest of the group, Linka was aware that his family situation wasn't the brightest. They had all pretty well deduced that "home" wasn't really that to Wheeler, nor would it ever be, sadly.

"He's still stubborn as a mule, but my mom seemed happy enough taking care of him," shrugged the redhead, and she nodded a little at his words, processing them.

"How was your time with Mishka?"

Linka's smile brightened and her face softened with love. Wheeler knew her bond to her brother was very strong, perhaps because they had lost their parents when young, and tragedy had thus strengthened their tie as siblings. He thought her brother was a good man, honest and with a great sense of humor, and the few times they had seen each other, they had always got on well together. Linka was definitely the more serious between the two, even though Mishka was three years older than his sister.

"He is very happy and Natasha is lovely! We became friends right away, as if we had always known each other. They cannot wait to be married, of course."

A sudden interruption caused Wheeler to frown, annoyed at being pulled away from his pleasant conversation with Linka; it was Gi, who voiced to the pair the need to fuel up. He was surprised when Linka nodded somewhat distractedly, before throwing him a sideway glance. When she newly turned to the Asian girl, her eyes were sparkling with repressed amusement.

"Actually, while you do that, Gi, do you mind if we go get something to eat? I have been craving fast food all week! We will not be long, and we can get you something to go, as well, if you would like."

Wheeler arched an eyebrow, studying the blonde girl. Did that… wait, was Linka trying to be alone with him? Or was his ego simply blowing things out of proportion again?

"You… _craving_ fast food?!"

Linka nodded before smiling sheepishly. They all knew she was a very conscientious eater, your typical fruit and veggies sort of a girl, so the comment was in itself unexpected and suspicious.

" _Da_ , we have been eating nothing but Russian food, and as much as I love it, I would kill for a hamburger right about now."

Wheeler laughed heartily at her revelation while Gi rolled her eyes.

"Well, I see some golden arches in the distance," he offered, looking past the busy street behind them. "I say we get some serious calories in her before the girl commits a murder. Oh, and we'll get Ma-Ti a Happy Meal while we're at it."

The Indigenous boy looked up from the Cruiser's energy panel to flip Wheeler the middle finger, and they laughed as a result. Ma-Ti was now in his late teens, but they would forever see him as the baby of the bunch.

"I'm reaping what I'm sowing," Wheeler remarked proudly, his tone that of a parent witnessing his son graduating from school.

The American and the Russian distanced themselves from their remaining friends, walking amicably together until, minutes later, they reached their destination. Linka chose a booth in the corner and Wheeler offered to put in their order at the counter. He walked past a table where two teenage girls were busy taking selfies from above, puckering up for the camera; they giggled as he passed and he envied their lightheartedness for a moment.

The restaurant was not very busy, and he did not have to wait very long for their order to come through. As he balanced the heavy tray in his hands, Wheeler tried sending a warning message to his brain. _Don't be so hopeful_. It didn't have to mean anything that Linka had asked him to accompany her. Why, it was probably the most common reaction given his natural love for burgers! Everyone knew he was your go-to-guy if you wanted to stuff your face with everything unhealthy at all times during the day. One time, they had found him and Ma-Ti at three in the morning, overdosed on candy bars from a vending machine in the hotel lobby of a small town somewhere in Malaysia, as they had been unable to find anywhere that served food at that ungodly hour. Linka probably knew he'd never turn down fast food even if he was still upset with her. Which was not the case, of course, since he was all but bursting with joy at spending even ten minutes alone with her. He wasn't sure what was more pathetic, his silly daydreams of having any claim over Linka or his vanishing pride. All the American knew was that he felt ridiculously happy as he sat down in the booth next to her. More happy than anyone should feel doing something as mundane as sharing a meal.

"Okay, what have you done with the _real_ Linka?" Wheeler joked as he placed the tray before her, grinning at her elated expression. She had ordered a double-decked burger, large fries and a vanilla milkshake. Not even a fake-healthy salad as a side dish or anything!

Linka smiled and popped a golden French fry in her mouth, sighing contently. "Natasha is a very good cook, but I missed this! Maybe it is the transgression that makes it so alluring."

Wheeler laughed before taking a gulp of his iced cola. He hadn't missed that she had scooted closer to him in the booth as he'd taken his seat, and was relishing in their physical closeness at the moment.

Linka was happily munching on her fries, comfortable beside him, and she took to speaking again.

"Mishka asked about you, he was almost surprised I had not brought you along. He has invited you to the wedding, which is less than a month away! They have organized everything in so little time. Uncle Dimitri has booked for their reception the grand hall of the Ritz-Carlton in Moscow. Grandmother will, uhm, _freak out_ , as you say, once she sees the hotel! It is incredibly luxurious. Of course, both Mishka and Natasha thought it was too much, but our uncle would not hear of it."

"Wow!" Wheeler enthused, unwrapping his burger. The smell of bacon coming from it was utterly delicious. "That's a suit and tie event for sure!"

"We will have to get you _toyed_ up."

"That's ' _dolled_ up', babe," Wheeler rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his burger, unable to resist the charm that she exuded when confusing well-known English idioms.

She simply shrugged and took to examining her burger, satisfied.

"You'll no doubt look gorgeous," Wheeler added easily, and she smiled a little.

Linka went on to place her burger back down on the tray and slowly lifted her eyes to him. Her face became more serious and an almost audible sigh escaped her lips.

"Jacob, listen… I wanted to, well, apologize for how I acted before leaving for Washington. I have been thinking a lot about what you said on the beach on our last night in Salinas. Maybe I had never noticed before how much my moods can change around you. I do not understand it myself, actually. I hope you know by now that it is never my intention to hurt you. I just… I am not very good at showing you I care about you. A lot."

Her hand took his gently and Wheeler froze at the contact. Everything she had tried to voice flowed into that one warm touch, and her eyes were shining with truth. He suddenly forgot to breathe, chew, swallow, blink, think, _anything_ in that instant. Everything about him knew _this_ was right. They had yet to determine what _this_ was, exactly, but hell if it wasn't absolutely soul-claiming.

"This is a good way of showin' me," he finally found his voice, looking at their linked hands across the table.

Linka blushed a little and looked down at the rest of her meal, but her hand did not move from his.

"I gotta tell ya, I definitely wasn't expecting this," Wheeler shook his head slowly, incredulousness written all over his face. He was trying to wrap his mind around what had changed, what he'd done, to help her unyielding guard come down slightly. He wanted to capture the essence in a bottle and hold on to it forever.

"Help me understand," Wheeler's tone lowered with intimacy and his fingers delicately moved her chin upwards so that she could meet his eyes. He suppressed the need to taste her perfect lips, even though it was all he could think about. His heart had began its strange dance dedicated exclusively to Linka, and he patiently waited for her to collect her thoughts.

"I guess… maybe seeing Mishka so happy helped me realize that I should not let fear dictate my decisions. Maybe… it gave me hope, _tangible proof_ , actually, that things _do_ work out all right in the end, if you have the courage to let destiny take its course. Ugh, does that sound very corny, Yankee?"

Wheeler chuckled softly and released his hold on her, shifting his body in the booth so he could face her better.

"That sounds sensible to me! But let me ask you something. Are you afraid of me?"

Linka blinked her eyes up at him, then rested her head on her open palm, considering this.

" _Nyet_ ," was her soft answer. "Rather, I am afraid of who I _could_ be with you."

Wheeler was astounded at her level of emotional openness. This was probably the most sincere and insightful conversation they had ever had together, even though he could tell that trying to figure Linka out was going to take some time.

"Is there anything I can do?"

His sincere concern caused the corners of her mouth to turn upwards in a blissful smile, and Wheeler was momentarily lost in it magic. He knew he'd do anything for her at that moment, kill, pillage, beg, build, destroy, transform.

"Be endlessly patient?" Linka ventured out with a small laugh, toying with the straw in her cup to keep her hands busy while stealing furtive glances at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he all but grinned, deciding that this softer side of her was downright lovable. It took some adjusting to, since it wasn't common seeing that particular glow in her eyes or her cheeks coloring crimson. There was a femininity in it that was sexy as hell, decided Wheeler, all but spell-bound by her.

"I'll just keep my eyes on the prize," he added merrily, winking at her. Linka blushed again and resorted back to her meal, not intending to divulge any more of her best kept secrets, apparently. But Wheeler couldn't have wished for a better, happier truce between them. For the first time, she had planted a tiny seed of glorious hope in his mind. That was all he had ever needed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

There was a warm breeze playing through the tall palm trees on Hope Island. The day was slowly fading and, as a result, the sky had become a multifaceted blanket of colors that all blended into each other. Soft pink into fiery orange into subtle mauve. Wheeler was intently observing this open-aired canvas as he swayed to and fro in the hammock he'd built, but that they all used regularly. He was full of good ideas like that, especially lounging ones.

The young American stretched his arms over his head, noticing the slight soreness in his muscles. He'd spent the day doing mechanical work on both the Cruiser and the Copter, before washing them clean. Physical labor always lulled his thoughts and gave him a chance to focus. He'd been going over his brief time with Linka in the restaurant for the thousandth time, studying it from all angles. Whatever conclusion he came to, he could not disown the waterfall of happiness that washed all his other feelings away. Linka had seemed so much softer, not as afraid to open up to him, and this was a _huge_ improvement in their relationship. All he'd ever needed to know was that she was at least game to try. He was no fool, he knew that Linka was way too good for someone like him. She was insanely smart and cultured, a few _pedestals_ above him if truth be told, and that was _without_ factoring in her gorgeous looks. The mere notion that she could concede him a chance was beyond his wildest dreams. He would probably never need anything ever again.

When his phone had rang in the garage, distracting him from his fantasies-come-true, it had taken him a minute to focus on the caller. It had been Trish, and upon hearing her voice, Wheeler had been inundated by different emotions. Relief that she seemed okay, guilt over what had happened between them, anxiety over what she was going to say. _Had she received any news on the interview at the art gallery?_ , Wheeler had inquired, to which Trish had replied in the negative, a hint of sadness in her voice. She had narrated the latest tales involving his parents, his dad was recovering slowly but surely, his mom was polishing up her baking skills and sending her home with industrial amounts of sweet goods to snack on.

It had been a fairly normal conversation between them until " _I miss you"_ , Trish had disclosed with quiet resolution, unable to hide the strong emotion behind her voice. The contents of her heart were on display in those three little words. Wheeler had switched the phone to his other ear, not quite sure how to respond to that. Giving Trish any more false hope would be cruel, but so was letting her know time and again that he was not interested in her that way. It was an awkward conundrum.

 _Couldn't she visit sometimes?_ , Trish had spoken at last, filling the silent pause between them. _Was the Island such a secret?_ , she wanted to know, her voice slightly annoyed by this point. Wheeler had quickly served back an answer, saying that outsiders weren't allowed, which was theoretically a lie. Massive stains were collecting on his already dirty conscience. He was pretty sure he was going straight to hell for this, remembering with a groan that he had already missed two of her calls since leaving New York. Maybe the universe enjoyed watching him rolling around in pure irony, maybe fate was delighted by the endless tricks being cast on his life. How else could he explain the feverish situation that had been created? Trish forever chased after him, while he was completely engrossed in chasing Linka, who seemed to enjoy getting away from his grasp as much as he enjoyed evading Trish. Wheeler shook his head to clear it, the complicated mess resembling impossible-to-follow algorithms.

By the time he'd finished talking to the American girl over the telephone, he'd decided to pack everything up and call it a day in the garage. He couldn't focus anymore and he felt tired, all of a sudden. Wheeler wished he felt less responsible for Trish, but they had always somehow taken care of one another; perhaps, then he wouldn't feel such remorse over the way he was treating her. Or rather, why he could never treat her the way she wished he would treat her.

His inner dialogue was interrupted by nearby footsteps, and he turned his head; a definite end was put on his earlier thoughts once he saw that it was Linka. She was strolling along, probably on her way to the Commons Room, judging by the two thick folders of paperwork she was balancing in her arms. They – or rather _she_ – had set up a little study there, with a table, chair and computer where data could be entered after being collected, the progress of their work monitored, and other number-crunching activities that gave Wheeler a headache just thinking about them. The Russian was invaluable to their team, since she put in all that extra amount of work without ever complaining or gloating about it. _It was just who Linka was_ , he reflected with a little smile on his face, watching her unnoticed as she neared the clearing. Self-sacrificing and hard-working, responsible and punctual, loyal and bright. Wheeler shook his fist at the sky, more astounded than angry, that he should desire someone who was his polar opposite in so many ways.

"Babe," he called out to her cheerily, and watched as her eyes turned to focus on him. Wheeler was possessed by a sense of ridiculous happiness when her lips turned upwards in a smile as she came towards him. He was by this time wondering at his sanity, at the importance being placed on that little gesture, but he had long stopped caring. The strength of what he felt for Linka was a revelation that repeated itself time and again, and he smiled back in greeting, relaxed.

"Care for a little break? The sky is mighty pretty at this hour."

Linka turned her head upwards, tightening her hold on the folders against her chest, as she examined what Wheeler was pointing out.

"Hmm," she sighed, lost for a moment, before her eyes met his again.

"That is very tempting, but I better start registering these data Gi got from her time with Pontus. She has already helped out so much with the research, my contribution seems insignificant at this point."

Wheeler took advantage of the slight hesitation her tone carried and moved so that he could take her hand.

"Come on," he coaxed with a smile, shifting to make room for her on the hammock. "That can wait 'til tomorrow. Seizing the moment is what it's all about!"

Uncharacteristically, Linka let herself be dragged by his enthusiasm after considering his proposal for just a moment. She placed her burden neatly on the ground before proceeding to lay down carefully, trying to keep her personal space intact. It was a pretty difficult thing to do on a hammock. Gravity pushed them together and she ended up nearly on top of him; Wheeler was internally cackling with mirth at this point.

"Buildin' this thing was the best idea I ever had," he let out as he circled his arms about her waist. He thought he heard Linka scoff before she settled neatly on her side, clasping her hands against her chest to keep them occupied, away from him.

"You seem to be full of good ideas, Yankee," Linka gave in with a slight laugh, elbowing him as a reproach. "But… you are right. The sky _is_ very beautiful right now and I would not have noticed had you not pointed it out."

For a few comfortable minutes, they stared up at the changing colors above them. Wheeler was encouraged by the fact that Linka wasn't rejecting his arms wrapped around her frame and that she seemed peaceful.

"That is the thing, Yankee, half the time I do not know what goes on through your head."

Linka's tone was placated and he turned to examine her profile.

"What are you talkin' about? I'm an open book!"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes before moving to face him. "If you really think about it, we do not know each other as well as you think we do."

Wheeler read a sort of melancholy –or was it apprehension? – in her tone, and he suddenly wondered if she was right. _Duh!_ _Of course she's right, she's brilliant!_ , his inner voice piped up, and he considered this new piece of information. Both of them were pretty guarded with their past and their emotions, and for the first time he wondered if this had been a barrier for romantic possibilities. Linka seemed to want more reassurance than most girls, she was a bit of a perfectionist who avoided mistakes like the plague, and not knowing _enough_ was a worry for her.

Wheeler laid his cheek on top of her head and spoke up. "You know what? We should totally play _21 Questions_!"

"What is that?" he could hear the frown in her voice but he continued on, amused.

"That's when we ask each other questions about anything! All we gotta do is answer honestly and think up good questions!"

"You seem excited about this," observed Linka, looking up at him. "Should I be worried?"

Wheeler laughed, but having her so close to him stilled him quite quickly. Her eyes were putting on a better display than the sky –they were vividly green at the moment- and her eyelashes were casting half-moon shadows on her smooth cheeks. Her mouth was glorious in that little pout that defined her so well, and he tore his eyes away from it with great effort, afraid he would kiss her and ruin the moment.

"I'll start," Wheeler grinned, stroking her arm slightly in a brief caress, instead.

"And why should _you_ get that privilege?"

"Because I thought of the game," Wheeler smugly remarked, keeping up their banter. She mutter something that sounded like ' _bozhe moi'_ in response, and he pretended to mull over his first question.

"Okay," he smiled at last, and she blinked up at him, unsure but amused all in the same breath.

"What is your ideal date? Like the perfect night out with someone you like."

Linka pondered this over, glancing up at the darkening sky before answering.

"I think… the perfect night out would be dinner at a restaurant, maybe somewhere overlooking the water, and then dancing."

"See? I didn't know about the dancing part!" grinned Wheeler, self-satisfied. "I feel like I know you better already!"

"By the way, Yankee, you do not get points in originality for that question because I already knew you were going to ask something like that."

"Just try to act surprised on our first _official_ date, then," he winked, and she laughed prettily before her cheeks colored slightly. Her head rested on his shoulder and Wheeler tried not to move too suddenly; he did not want to frighten her off. He wanted to stay with her like this all night if possible! He was so comfortable and she fit just right tucked away in his arms. Linka was offering her trust to him freely, and he was going to highly revere that gift.

"My turn," the Russian girl broke through his cavity-inducing thoughts, and he brought his focus back to her. "What is something that no one knows about you?"

"Uhmm," Wheeler rubbed his chin, taking a few moments to think about his response. Above them, the outline of a sliver of moon appeared in the mixed hues, completing the breathtaking scenery.

"My favorite song is ' _No Ordinary Love_ ' by Sade."

Linka pulled away to look up at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.

"I would have lost all bets on that."

"Yeah, did I mention the key ingredient to this game? That is, utter and total _secrecy_? We are not allowed to tell _anybody_ our answers. _Anybody_. That includes Gi, got it, babe?"

Linka giggled, newly resting up against him. "There is no reason to get worked up, that is an incredibly beautiful love song."

"Exactly! I would lose all my street cred if that information got out," Wheeler went on, half-teasing, and Linka laughed.

"Do not worry, your secret is safe with me," she replied softly, sincerely, and Wheeler unconsciously held her a bit closer.

"Okay, enough with the soft questions! I wanna know, what's your biggest regret?"

He sensed her tensing up a little before letting out a sigh. He did not rush her to speak, and she made no move to hurry.

Linka bit her lip and shook her head very slightly. Her tone was reluctant when she spoke again.

"It is… embarrassing, in a way."

" _More_ embarrassing than British jazz-pop?" Wheeler jeered, rolling his eyes dramatically, and she smiled for a second.

"It is not something I am very proud of. When I was in… I guess it would be like your high school in America, except that in Russia, there are only two years after the completion of middle school. I was in the first year and I liked a boy who was in the second year. Me and the rest of the female population at school! He was very good-looking and very popular with girls. He dated many of them, but only briefly, it seemed. He started showing interest in me, he would tell my friends that he wanted to get to know me better, and he arranged for our groups of friends to meet after school. I could hardly believe he was interested in me, and I guess I liked feeling special that way. He only ever chased after very beautiful girls, usually in their last year of school or even University; it was the first time he had shown interest in someone younger. This went on for a few months, we were dating, you could say, and I was happy. I was also very silly and naïve, but I did not have the sense to be more guarded. One evening we were at a big party at a friend's house, and the girls were drinking a bit too much. They were talking about how lucky I was to be dating someone so handsome, and then they were curious about, uhm, my _intimate_ time with him. When they found out I had not done anything like that with him, they teased me ruthlessly and pushed me to go upstairs with him, saying that was the only way to keep him. So him and I ended up alone together that night, and well… it was not at all what my friends said it would be. It was… quite horrible, actually. I was so embarrassed when it was all over that I could not even look him in the eye. He kind of distanced himself from me after that, already too busy looking for his next conquest, I guess. I just wish the memories of my first time were not so… unpleasant and disappointing. I should not have jumped in without thinking it through, and now I can never take it back."

Linka's voice was nearly quivering with the strength of her emotions, and her face was hidden securely against his shoulder, probably not wishing for him to steal a peek at the moment.

Wheeler placed a light kiss in her hair and squeezed her hand gently.

"I'm sorry, babe. That's such a bummer! I know how important that can be for girls."

She did not add anything, but seemed comforted by his sincere tone of voice.

"If it's any consolation, the guy was a big idiot who probably didn't know what the hell he was doing, anyway."

Linka's head shot up like a spring, and her eyes met his.

"You mean… there is a possibility that, maybe, it was not entirely _my_ fault?"

"Shit, of course it wasn't your fault! Is that what you've been tellin' yourself all this time?"

The way her eyes had lost all their sparkle led him to believe he'd centered the mark. Wheeler lifted her chin up, locking his eyes on hers.

"Just 'cuz the guy presented himself as God's gift to women doesn't mean it was true! Linka, you're _insanely hot_ , and if a guy can't work with _that_ , well, there's no hope for him!"

The blonde girl laughed heartily, and he was glad to feel her tense muscles relaxing.

"Your _unique_ reasoning makes me feel better about it, Yankee. Thank you. I guess I have carried around a sense of guilt tied to that incident. Like there was something the matter with me."

"I just can't picture you being bad at _anything_ , babe."

"Maybe you have an idealized idea of who I am."

"Uhmm, well, I _do_ have proof of your kissing abilities, and you don't hear me complaining, do you?"

Wheeler snickered at her ready blush, and he watched as she bit her lip at his audacity. His hand then caressed her cheek and he moved her body closer to his, pulling her along gently.

"In fact, you're pretty great at it."

He was momentarily lost in her glance as she took him in, studying him with something like affection. His lips gravitated naturally towards hers, softly at first, testing her reaction. It took Linka only a moment to respond, and soon, his hands were tangled in her long locks and her arms were wound around his neck and he was kissing her with utmost reckless abandon. It was _right_ with her, it fit blissfully. Even though their connection was tremendously passionate, he retained a softness to his actions that he could only associate with being in love. Wheeler would never think of pushing her over her limits or asking for more than she was willing to give. He wanted to cuddle her in his arms like something of infinite value, cherish her.

Linka's breathing was coming out ragged, mixing with his own, as they tasted more of each other. Wheeler's hands were caressing the small of her back, her body crashing into his like a powerful wave until he was sure she could feel the effect her lovely mouth was having on him. The haze mixed with the scent of her skin, and it was impossible to think straight. Deepening the kisses, Wheeler pulled the length of her body over his, and now her curves were pressing dangerously into him from above. His hands moved up to the swell of her breasts and he heard that soft little sigh coming from her lips that drove him crazy. He doubted she knew what she was putting him through! And her very innocence would someday soon cost him his sanity, he was sure of it.

Wheeler ran his tongue over her bottom lip while his hands traveled to her hips, cajoling them to move over his. _Shit, he'd never wanted something so badly_ , he could not believe how hard he was from just kissing her. Her body was all warmth and softness, made up of real dreams. And yet, a little voice inside him told him to slow it down, because with Linka, he wasn't just after the one thing, he wanted the whole package. He wanted _her_ , not just physically, but her trust, her mind, her commitment. She was changing him, turning him into something he'd never thought he could be. Someone completely in love, willing to put the other person before his very needs, to compromise, to _fight_.

"Babe," he whispered huskily to her, finding the strength to pull his mouth away. His fingers tucked a strand of her blonde hair securely behind her ear and he smiled a little. "We'll never get to the twenty-first question if we keep this up."

Linka opened her eyes to examine him, and the green hue of them was stormier, alive. It was in stark contrast to her rosy cheeks, where a ready blush was present. Wheeler wondered if she would ever get used to their growing intimacy. He loved the fact that Linka seemed to be in awe of its effects, that she didn't see it as a given. It was like embarking on their first kiss together every single time their lips touched; reliving that surprising, overwhelmingly sweet sensation time and again. This was how he knew that growing more comfortable together was as special to her as it was to him.

"What happens at the end of the game?" she asked shyly, and the look in her eyes stirred awake all kinds of protective instincts inside him. This was the side of Linka very few people got to see, unguarded and soft, and it captivated him fully.

"Well, once you know all there is to know about me, you're probably gonna fall in love with me. It's inevitable, really, since I _am_ pretty awesome," Wheeler grinned flashily, and Linka grumbled under her breath.

He laughed a little at her annoyed reaction, amused, before he turned serious again. The American brought their mouths together again and kissed her softly and more sweetly than he had ever kissed any other girl. The love in his heart was overflowing, bubbling up, flooding all fears and common sense. He knew in that moment this was what he wanted for his life; no one but Linka would ever bring him such completion, such sense of belonging.

"It's only fair, babe! I've been waiting all this time for you to catch up to me," Wheeler smiled against her ear, tucking her in his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. The blonde girl did not protest, and he started caressing her hair with soft gestures.

They remained like this for a while, Linka reflecting on his words in silence, until the rustling of leaves underfoot brought them to the present state, bursting the little private bubble they had created.

"Shit, here comes Gi," Wheeler muttered under his breath, plainly annoyed. Linka was up faster than her element, scurrying about for her forgotten folders, pulling down her shirt with shaky hands and fixing her hair a bit.

Wheeler watched her amused, opening his mouth to say something clever, before she shot him a warning look that silenced him. He chuckled a little, gracefully conceding her the little victory.

"Hey, Lin, I found the first set!" Gi was announcing as she came closer, waving a few sheets of paper over her head. Her movements were pixie-like as she half-danced through the trees in cut-off jean shorts and a little tank top. After shedding the awkward adolescent phase, Gi had definitely embarked on the girly-girl route to life. She kept her hair longer and highlighted these days, and her face was always neatly made up. Wheeler often teased her about being high-maintenance and she always stuck her tongue out at him and demanded that he introduce her to some "hot" friends. She was tired of being single, she claimed.

The Asian Planeteer surveyed both her friends with a lively glint in her almond eyes, opening her mouth to comment, before a look from Wheeler hushed her. He was not in the mood to hear her silly accusations and he did not want Linka to feel embarrassed. Gi was too open with her ideas, and she often crossed the line with her suggestions that the two friends should "just hook up already!".

"You know, there are those of us who actually _work_ on this Island instead of swaying from its trees," Gi stuck her tongue out at him playfully, and Linka reached to take the papers from her.

"Hey, I'm the muscles around here," Wheeler replied lazily, folding his hands behind his head. "You should be thankful for that. At least this way you have something _hot_ to check out on the beach!"

"Ha! In your dreams, red! Let's go, Linka. That big ego of his is crowding me," Gi replied theatrically, tossing her head a bit as she linked her arm through Linka's.

"Bye, sweetie," Wheeler purred, enjoying his spurring matches with Gi tremendously. She was the second most fun person to get into a fight with, the first being Linka, of course.

Gi started walking away with her blonde companion, but not before turning around to stick her tongue out at his comment.

"I wasn't talkin' to you!" Wheeler scoffed at Gi, and she gave a little high laugh in response as she continued pulling Linka along.

His heart all but flipped when Linka turned timidly to give him a little goodbye wave in return.

* * *

A/N: If you're enjoying the story, please let me know about it with a review! Your thoughts and ideas mean more than you know... it's so much more motivating to post updates when I know I have an audience eager for more :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It takes only minutes for a plane to come crashing down. Seconds, really. The air, the world around it, swirls at the speed of light past it, dragging it downwards without mercy. If there are ever any survivors in those tragic circumstances, they always sound as if they are still recovering from the shock; they never know quite how to articulate the words needed to explain the horror.

This was the scene going through Wheeler's mind as he hung up his cell phone after talking to his mom. The low battery sign was flashing angrily at him, but he ignored it and shoved the device in his pocket, his hands trembling with the motion. His mom's tearful voice was still ringing in his ears, making it hard for him to focus on anything else. She was on her way to the hospital. Trish had tried cutting her wrists. Some neighbors had found her unconscious in her car, the seats stained red with blood as if trying to match the bodywork.

The mere mental visualization of that made Wheeler's stomach churn with illness. He was in the Copter with Kwame, and he closed his eyes against the nausea, explaining quietly that he had to make an emergency pit stop at home. His voice was less steady than he felt. Kwame had heard the exchange and the word "hospital" thrown in, but he chose not to investigate further, given his friend's reaction. Wheeler was eternally grateful for the African's discretion.

Minutes and events blurred together until he finally entered the hospital, and he blinked at the image of his mother waving to get his attention. Somehow, he'd made it to a waiting room that contained only her tiny frame along with the bleak decor. She was standing in front of a vending machine, her eyes puffy from crying, holding a styrofoam cup that seemed all but forgotten in her grip.

"Jacob," she breathed out, plainly relieved, as she turned in his direction.

"How is she?" Wheeler got out, his mouth dry, scanning his mom's face for any news. He was aware of his heart beating at a ridiculous high speed in his chest, a loud background noise to his racing thoughts.

"Thank God, she's all right," his mom nodded slightly, placing the cup on a nearby empty chair and wrapping her arms around herself. She seemed even more shaken than he felt.

"The doctor just left, said the cuts weren't too deep, but that she was lucky to be found so soon regardless. I had called her earlier today, but there was no answer. I wanted to go over and check on her, but then I thought against it. Didn't want her to think I was smothering her, you know? I… I failed her. Think of what could have happened had they not found her in time…"

Her voice broke and Wheeler took her arms gently, steadying her. "Ma, you've always done so much for her. Couldn't watch her 24/7. Don't blame yourself for this."

"But she's so fragile, Jacob," his mom shook her head sadly, biting back the tears. She took in a deep breath and met his eyes, speaking softly.

"Trish is a wonderful girl, she's got so much love to give. It's just so sad that she's surrounded by all the wrong people. She told me she's tried dating and how much of a disaster that's been. She hasn't heard from her mother in ages and when she does, that horrid woman just wants to borrow money from her. Then, the art gallery called, the day before yesterday I think it was, rejecting her application, and she seemed pretty crushed by that. It's a lot to take in for a girl her age. And she does ask after you a lot, baby. All the time. Wonders if you're with some other girl, why you don't call her as much as she calls you. I tell her that you're just busy with your work, and that if it's meant to be between you two, it'll work out. It just seems that her life lacks a definite direction right now. She's just… lost. But to think she would do this to herself…"

Wheeler pulled in his mom and embraced her tightly, communicating her comfort. He knew Trish was like a daughter to her, and her pain was visibly immense at the moment.

"Please, talk to her," she pleaded, hugging him back without reserve. "Try to find out what we can do to help. Maybe it's time you let her know what she means to you. She loves you, Jacob, she would do anything for you."

Her tender words were like a poisoned dagger to his heart. To think that he could be minimally involved in Trish's decision to attempt suicide left him void inside, hollow like a discarded shell. Hell, he didn't even feel like he was worth the trouble half the time, let alone something of that massive proportion. Sighing, Wheeler patted his mom on the arm gently and let her go, trying to smile at her and failing miserably.

"I'm gonna go see her," he whispered before his mom pointed him in the right direction.

"She's awake. I'm sure you'll have more luck than I did, could barely get two words outta her."

Once he reached the room, Wheeler entered without hesitation, taking in deep breath in order to calm the sense of anxiety that was starting to swirl about him. Trish was laying unmoving on the hospital bed, her eyes closed and her face turned into the pillow, as if she wanted to block out the fluorescents above, along with the rest of the world. The other bed was empty, neatly made up, a bouquet of flowers forgotten by its bedside table. A hasty get-well note was still weaved through the stems, the calligraphy illegible.

Wheeler silently took a seat on Trish's bed, taking care not to damage anything medical positioned about her. Her wrists were heavily bandaged up and an IV was slowly drip-dripping nearby. Trish opened her eyes but did not look at him directly. She kept her attention fixed on the pale green walls, barely blinking. Her face was ashen and tired-looking, but her breathing was coming out rhythmically and steady.

"Hey," the redhead voiced finally, taking her elbow gently. She did not meet his eyes right away, choosing to remain still as a statue before him. Wheeler moved his hand up to stroke her cheek, delicately, as if afraid he could break her. Trish finally turned to him with a defeated sigh.

"I'm gonna add this to the list of things I can't do right. Another fuck up. It's gettin' to be one hell of a list."

Trish's tone was bitter like black coffee, soaked with a brutality that made Wheeler flinch. He was having trouble placing the girl he once knew into the body of this woman he barely seemed to recognize.

"So you'd rather be dead right now?" he let out with a hint of anger, clenching his jaw and letting his hand rest on the starchy white sheets.

"Not like anyone would miss me," she grumbled, biting her lip in order to keep her eyes dry. He could tell she was battling an invisible war inside her, and it was tearing her apart.

"What's with all this shit you're talkin'?" Wheeler jumped up from the bed, running a hand through his hair. He took to pacing restlessly. He had to channel his anger somewhere, his body was filled with it and he feared he would unleash it inopportunely.

"What happened to you, Trish? Honestly, it's like I don't know who you are anymore! The Trish I know would never be lying in a hospital bed, crying about how tough life is. She would be out there fighting! Takin' on the whole fucking world!"

Trish sat up, her eyes flashing and coming to life for the first time since he'd stepped into the room. Her hands were balled up into tight fists on either side of her frame, shaking.

"Don't give me that, Wheeler! That's not fucking fair!"

" _Life_ isn't fair, Trish!" He shot back, nearing her and taking her by the shoulders. The need to shake her was becoming overwhelming and he was fighting against it with every ounce of blood in his being. His blue eyes locked on hers, unblinking.

"Wanna tell me what's _fair_ about the shitty hand we were dealt? No kid should ever have to go through what we went through. Picking up our parents' shit, goin' to bed so hungry you woke up feelin' dizzy in the morning, other kids ridiculing you, teachers labeling you, the whole damn society shutting you out! You don't think I wanted to be dead, then? Huh? Yeah, I did, a million times! But you know what? We're survivors. We fight back. We keep on goin' no matter what. That's just who we are. You can't let your past contaminate your future. It would be like having fought all those years for nothing. I'll be damned if I give up now, so don't _you_ go and do that, Trish. I won't let you."

Trish's resolve was shaken by his words and her eyes slowly filled with tears. The glossed over chestnut color was eternally sad. The tears gradually spilled down her cheeks, like crystals from a chandelier, catching the light.

Wheeler's eyes softened and his shoulders slumped a little, and he took place beside her again. His arms went about her automatically and she nestled against him without uttering a word.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking in a deep breath. "This isn't easy for me. My mom was beside herself."

"I didn't think I had it in me to be this selfish. I would never want to hurt her," Trish shook her head a little, her tone reflecting the anger she felt towards herself. She was silent for a moment before continuing. "But… lately it's been a _nightmare_ for me, Wheeler, even more than usual. Everything's goin' wrong. When they told me they had given the job to some community college graduate, I just lost it. Just 'cuz I couldn't afford some fancy school doesn't mean I'm not as good an artist. I'm so afraid of… going nowhere. All my life I swore I'd make something of myself. I don't wanna be a nobody like ma was, I don't want people to look at me and see a goddamn failure."

"So open your own gallery!" Wheeler enthused, patting her hand to get her attention. "Be your own boss! Maybe you can get the kids in the neighborhood involved, show them that they _can_ become somebody. The possibilities are endless, really, as long as you believe in yourself and your abilities."

Trish bit her lip and pondered over his words. "That's… uhmm, well, that's an idea. Kinda Hollywood, but still."

Wheeler smiled for the first time at her lighter tone, his muscles relaxing. Trish slowly turned her head on his shoulder so that she could look in his eyes. She was studying his features with care, blinking thoughtfully throughout her examination.

"I think a big part of your charm is that hero complex you've got goin' on."

Wheeler actually laughed at this and shrugged. "I don't do it on purpose."

"It's always been part of who you are, Jake. You don't like it when other people are upset. It's okay if you are, as long as everyone else is all right."

"Which brings me back to, are _you_ gonna be all right? Maybe it's a good idea for you to talk to someone, to help you bounce back when you're feeling this down about things."

Trish sighed at the concern in his voice and momentarily closed her eyes. "Maybe it's time I started doing that."

Wheeler shifted his eyes from Trish' face and noticed that his mom had peeked her head in the doorway in the meanwhile. Her lips were set in warm smile once she saw the intimate embrace he was sharing with Trish. He already knew the romantic scripts her mind was producing, and he held back the urge to tell her to go, that there was nothing to see. As if picking up on his thoughts, the older woman nodded satisfied and slowly left. Wheeler rolled his eyes in exasperation. He'd have to have a talk with his mom, set her straight.

"Thanks. You know, for dropping everything and rushing over here," Trish was saying, her eyes newly sweeping over his face.

"It's you, how could I do anything else?"

"Jake, I wanna know… and please be honest with me… has anything changed since last time? About you coming back home? About… _us_?" Trish said the last part in a whisper, in sacred reverence of the concept.

Wheeler swallowed audibly, the hopeful look in her big brown eyes sending shards of glass in the fabric of his soul. It would take some time for those tiny wounds to heal.

All he could do was revert to humor to lessen the bitter taste of his response. "I'm still a bastard who doesn't know what's good for him, apparently."

"You're in love with someone else." It wasn't a question, and it was delivered with a calmness that startled him. Trish had pulled away slightly by this point, sitting up more straight and fidgeting with her fingers. The slight tremble to her lower lip further accentuated that she already knew everything about his response.

Wheeler felt heat rushing to his cheeks and he brushed a hand back and forth through his hair, a little stunned. Hearing his carefully guarded secret coming from someone else's lips made everything all the more real and significant. Like a hazy outline that was finally taking a definite form, coming to life.

"Yeah," he simply admitted. For once, he had no witty remarks to voice. The truth was glittery enough on its own, blinding.

"I bet she's beautiful," Trish nodded a little, with a whimsical, sad smile on her face. Her tone vibrated slightly with her emotion.

Wheeler felt a stabbing sensation in his chest. He had run out of exits, ways out. The hourglass was empty, and he was trapped in the mess he'd created. He welcome the pain, though, for it was a just consequence to his actions. In his delirious ploy not to hurt anyone, he had hurt _everyone_ involved.

"I never meant to deceive you, Trish," Wheeler nodded to himself a little, before sighing deeply. "I've been a coward, really, and I've done things I know I shouldn't have done. I love you like the dear friend you are to me, but lately I haven't even treated you with the respect you deserve. Maybe someday you'll forgive me?"

The smile Trish gave him was slight, but it was genuine.

"I'm going to have to learn to let you go, Jake. It's going to be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do, I think. But a part of me will always belong to you."

"Trish…"

She placed a finger to his mouth to silence him. Wheeler nodded, defeat and exhaustion taunting him. He wasn't sure what he could add to make this any less painful, anyway.

Trish neared him and brushed her lips against his cheek. The chaste kiss was filled with sweetness and goodbyes. It was abstract and figurative art all splattered on one impossible canvas.

"If one day she should break your heart, you know where to find me. I'll always carry that little hope with me, tucked safely inside my heart, because, well, I'm just twisted like that. But until then, if you _really_ love her, do everything in your power _not_ to fuck it up. Just some words of wisdom from an old friend."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Wheeler had barely registered that two whole days had passed since he'd arrived in Brooklyn. The concept of time had simply ceased to exist in that delicate realm he'd found himself in. When Trish received her dismissal from the hospital, he contacted Ma-Ti to head back to the Island. His mom had talked to Trish, expressing her wish that the girl move in with them. It wasn't just to check up on her, the older woman had explained affectionately, she honestly wanted the company. She could use a hand taking care of Wheeler's dad, after all. She assured Trish it would not be a problem financially, since the disability check was generous enough, and their expenses had considerably gone down since Wheeler's dad was no longer drinking.

Had he been in Trish's shoes, Wheeler would not have had the heart to say no. His mom was excited about it; she skillfully argued that it was a chance for Trish to rest and reconfigure her life. Trish seemed relieved at the prospect of not having to continue her job at the coffee shop, a place she had grown to detest, and so she timidly gave in to his mom's pleading. She had also met with a therapist at the hospital who would follow and encourage her progress. Trish had seemed fairly optimistic about this new game plan and Wheeler was glowing about it, truly happy for his best friend. All she really needed was a second chance, after all, to start anew and grow strong. The rest would come by itself, naturally; he was certain of it.

The redheaded American could not help the feeling of disappointment that crept over him when he saw that it wasn't Linka picking him up. He had to make do with Gi. His phone had given up long ago, and he'd thus been isolated from the gang; of course, Gi had a million questions for him. He tried to answer as best as he could without disclosing the more intimate details and was glad when, more or less satisfied, Gi launched into details about a next possible mission.

The light of the sun had faded into the ocean and a few stars were out on the Island, peeking through a cluster of clouds, when they finally landed. Wheeler realized he was thoroughly and utterly exhausted. He hadn't slept nor changed his clothes in what felt like a very long time. It was a blessed thing his mom had snuck in some drive-thru goodies here and then, otherwise he'd have starved to death without noticing.

Gi's interest was diverted to her phone as a call came through and she distractedly waved goodbye to him, heading to the Commons Room. Wheeler was contemplating the healing properties of a hot shower and some proper sleep, but he wondered if seeking Linka out first was the better idea. Surely she would be interested in what the hell he'd been up to the last couple of days; he only prayed she would appreciate the sticky situation.

He was securing the doors to the Copter shut, lost in his thoughts, when said blonde walked up to the small landing field. Wheeler turned to face her and the smile on his lips faded when he took in Linka's stance. Nothing about it was relaxed. She was standing straight and rigid, shoulders back, arms folded tightly over her chest, lips set in a firm line. _Livid_ , was the first description that came to his mind. She was struggling to maintain control, it seemed, and a little voice told him he was in deep shit. Like three feet underground in it. Wheeler told himself she had a right to be upset; he would have _freaked_ had she been the one M.I.A. without an explanation nor forewarning. Plus, she was the one most likely to fear the worst out of them, given her slightly anxious personality.

Wheeler took a few steps towards her, teasingly putting his hands up as a peace offering, hoping that one of his disarming smiles would appease her. He counted on his charm to counteract Linka's intensity, as was common for him. Most of the times she let him get away with it, but he had a bad feeling about today.

"Babe, you wouldn't believe it, my phone died, and _of course_ I didn't have the charger with me…"

His light-hearted speech was cut off by the sharp sound of her hand slapping his cheek. Wheeler's head snapped to the side, the burning sensation in his face stunning him, his mouth forming a little "o" at the surprising force behind the gesture. When he moved again in order to meet Linka's eyes, they were sparkling with something like rage, her hands shaking into tight fists at her sides. It was the first time she had ever lashed out at him like this; in all their years of bantering and fighting, Linka had never responded with such fierceness at his antagonizing ways. Wheeler was at a loss for words for the first time in his life.

"Do you know how _worried_ I have been about you?" Linka's voice was shaking with the strength of her emotions and her breathing was coming out shallow, unsteady.

"I was so frantic I looked up a listing for your home number. I did not know what else to do. You were not answering any of my calls and Kwame said it had something to do with a hospital, an emergency of sorts. I thought something terrible had happened, that maybe there were complications from your father's surgery. Your mother answered the phone. She said you were at the hospital with your _girlfriend_."

Wheeler's mouth opened but no sounds came out. The Russian girl stood heartbroken before him and it was solely his fault. He could not imagine the pain and humiliation she must have felt upon hearing such a discovery. His mom was going to get an earful, that was for damn sure! But really, he could not blame anyone else but his carelessness for all this. He'd omitted certain truths that Linka could have understood and accepted given a pre-warning, a heartfelt talk.

The American was conscious that it looked eternally bad right now, and his heart raced with fear. His thoughts became dominos, knocking into each other and creating confusion. Frozen was how he felt, unwilling to accept that he could easily lose all of Linka's trust in this mess; he'd worked _so_ hard to gain, especially recently. His progress could not go to waste, pulverized like meaningless dust. Being just friends with Linka was never going to work for him, he couldn't stand it, in fact. He wanted her in his life in more intimate ways than he could ever explain.

"What makes me angry is how surprised I was," Linka shook her head, breaking the stillness between them. She bit down on her bottom lip to guard off tears; her eyes were already shining with them. "You have never had any consideration for my feelings, after all. This is all a big game to you, a sort of sick, twisted way to collect any pretty thing that crosses your path. You have a history for being easily distracted. So why did I think, for a second, that you had changed? That you _could_ change?"

Linka was losing her battle with self-control so she turned from him. Reading into her intention to sprint away, Wheeler readily caught her arm before she could leave. His heart was burning with anguish at the forlorn expression on her features. To think he was the cause of it nearly killed him with grief, as if her pain was cutting off the oxygen to his lungs. Seeing Linka hurting was the worst possible punishment that could have been bestowed upon him.

"Babe, it's not what you think, I swear! Trish is my ex-girlfriend… from a _long_ time ago." His voice was filled with something like desperation.

"It is too bad your mother did not get the memo," Linka replied, her tone poisonous, shaking his hold off her arm. "I am finished with this conversation, Wheeler."

The New Yorker bravely stepped in her path, shaking his head as if to defy her. He hoped she was able to see the turmoil in his eyes at the very thought that this could break them apart. It wasn't fair! There wasn't even a valid reason for it. It was _her_ he loved, damn it!

"Linka, this is all a big misunderstanding! I had to be there because she tried killing herself. That's why me and my mom were at the hospital."

The briefest of nods came from Linka at his disclosure. Her eyes were cool like a winter breeze, completely unreadable. Wheeler awaited more from her with bated breath, his mind racing at a criminal speed.

"I am sorry to hear that, I certainly do not wish her any harm. But it does not change anything. I was wrong to open myself up to you, I realize that now."

The Russian was newly turning away from him so he reached to take her hand. For the briefest of seconds, everything calmed down inside his brain, the furious storm ceased. Such was the power of Linka's touch on him. It was unfortunate she newly moved to flee, hiding her face from him.

"Linka, don't. Just… please. Don't let this mean anything, because it _doesn't_. You're the one I want to be with… today, tomorrow, forever. I meant everything I said to you, none of it was bull. In fact, I've never meant it so much, with anyone."

His blue eyes were shining with truth and there was nothing more he wanted than to hold Linka close to him, to feel her reassuring touch. He'd been an idiot to risk losing her this way; he should have used all his energy to guard their budding relationship like a crown jewel. It pained him to admit that she was right, he _hadn't_ put her first, hadn't considered her feelings as he should have. And it was killing him inside, like sharp teeth shredding his soul to unrecognizable pieces.

"I have to go." Linka's words were final, and in them Wheeler could hear the end of his dreams, the crushing of his very heart.

"Babe…" his voice was a plea, a whisper, as if all his anguish could be contained in that one word.

It had the opposite effect on the beautiful blonde. A glint of anger flashed in her emerald eyes, as if the term of endearment was too much for her to bear at the moment.

"I cannot keep doing this with you, Wheeler! I do not need all this turmoil in my life! Imagine if an eco-emergency came through right now! I would be useless to the team, endanger the mission even, in my state of mind. The team does not deserve that, and I cannot allow that to happen. It is selfish, let alone unprofessional. I was right to keep my distance, for _so_ many reasons. There are _too_ many reasons, Wheeler. I see that clearly now. I wish to be alone for a while. Do not come find me. I am asking you as a _friend_."

The finality of her words was like a sword hanging over Wheeler's head, and he could feel its lethal weight. There was an unbearable crushing sensation inside him, and even breathing had become painful. Linka's lithe figure moved out of sight as she raced further into the thick vegetation on Hope Island and Wheeler was left alone, only the sound of the wind to keep him company.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Wheeler clutched the elegant tie in his hand, looking up at his image reflected in the oval mirror. He thanked his lucky stars he had let the girls talk him into having one good suit in his closet. The navy blazer and matching trousers did look very flattering on his tall figure, and the candid button down shirt complemented the ensemble. He was tempted to shove the tie in his pocket but knew that the delicate silk would be creased as a consequence, and that would not do at all. But, boy, did he hate ties!

"Do you need a hand with that?" a female voice piped up from the doorway. There was an amused tone mixed into her words, like the chime of bells in the breeze. Gi stood with her arms folded, leaning casually against the doorframe of his room. Wheeler had been so lost in his reveries he had not even heard the Asian girl come in. He nodded helplessly, holding out the dreaded "noose" to her, and she giggled unabashedly.

Wheeler remembered little about what had happened after his disastrous talk with Linka. His emotions had been as battered as a lightweight champion at his first boxing match. It had been devastating. He'd walked to his hut, dejected, his head thumping with pain from the migraine that was forming. Never had there been a more depressed person on that magical Island. Wheeler had collapsed on his bed, fully dressed, as the toll of the last forty-eight hours made itself known.

When he'd opened his eyes again, it had been mid-afternoon. He'd been disoriented, his throat parched and burning; he'd later deduced he'd slept for more than twenty-four hours straight. Even after showering, it had taken his brain a while before getting into gear again.

After discovering he was so famished his vision had started to blur, he'd decided to stop in the kitchen for a breakfast-type meal (even though it was past that hour). The others were nowhere in sight, and he ate quickly, because his mission, really, was to find Linka. He had been willing to risk another healthy smack as long as she would let him newly beg for her forgiveness. But when he'd reached her hut, there was no answer. Wheeler had patiently waited what felt like ten minutes on her doorstep, before giving up and racing to find Gi. Certainly, _she_ would know what Linka was up to.

Without too much effort, Wheeler had been able to locate the Asian Planeteer, who promptly informed him that Linka had gone to Russia. _Duh, Wheeler, her brother is getting married today! Another "hot" one bites the dust_ , Gi had sighed dramatically, and Wheeler had simply frozen. Taken as he'd been with a suicidal ex-girlfriend, while managing a furious, potential new girlfriend, he had failed to notice that it was indeed the right day for the happy nuptials. _Mishka's wedding_. The same wedding Linka had wanted to take him to, before the apocalypse had not so subtly waltzed into his life, that is. Now everything lay in shambles, mismatched pieces scattered everywhere in sight. His very last hope was going to Linka and hope for a miracle. Kinda like the ones that happened at Christmas time. After all, weddings held a similar magic, didn't they?

"So you're gonna crash Mishka's wedding, huh?" Gi brought him back to the present state of affairs, and he watched as her hands worked diligently to fix the tie around his neck. Wheeler remained very still before meeting her eyes.

"Are you sure about that?" Gi added as an afterthought, a thin eyebrow raised in question. Her face was torn between amusement and concern for her friend.

"Linka _did_ invite me," Wheeler defended himself, watching in the mirror as his friend quickly completed the job. Leave it to the _fashionista_ to make it seem effortless!

"Maybe that slapping action on your face was her subtle way of _uninviting_ you," Gi nearly laughed aloud, and Wheeler could not believe she found his personal demise so damn amusing. He'd known he would instantly come to regret telling Gi vague details about his fight with Linka.

"Yeah, laugh it up," he muttered to the Asian girl, making a face. He moved from her and went searching for the keys and his phone instead. There was no time to waste, this was possibly the most important mission of his life, and he needed to focus. He couldn't afford to screw this up.

"Come on, you know I like messing with you," giggled Gi in a sing-song voice, before her eyes turned serious. She took his arm to stop his disorganized movements, and captured his attention.

"Wheeler, I'm being lighthearted about this because I already know how it will end. You and Linka belong together, everyone knows that!"

"Does Linka?" Wheeler sighed aloud, a note of defeat coloring his voice. For an instant, he felt inundated by something bigger than himself, a tidal wave so huge he feared he would not win against it.

"I just can't believe I fucked things up so bad." Wheeler ran a hand through his hair and sat down on his unmade bed. "Maybe… what if she's right, Gi? That we're too different? That she's too good for me? I already know I don't deserve her. She could do so much better than me, so maybe I shouldn't try to force destiny and shit…"

"That's the dumbest thing you've said to date," Gi snorted, and he looked up at the Asian girl, his eyes filled with pure misery. He felt as if lost in an impossible maze.

Gi kneeled in front of him and took his hand; her contact was warm and reassuring.

"Linka's the only thing that truly motivates you. It would be wrong to let that go without a fight, Wheeler. You're in love with her. You would do anything for her. Hell, who else would dress up and go to some wedding in Russia where all her family will be present, just to declare your devotion to her? And despite what Linka says or how she acts, I know she feels the same about you. You get the most reaction out of her than anyone else! Maybe she's just learning how to deal with such a huge thing in her life. She's not one to believe in things like love at first sight or soul mates, so adjusting to what you imply everyday mustn't be easy for her. But don't give up! What you two share, yeah, it's crazy complicated, but it's _strong_ , and honestly, I can't think of anything more amazing to wish on my best friend than for her to spend forever with you by her side."

A small smile played at the corners of Wheeler's mouth and he gladly accepted Gi's embrace. He was touched. With such devoted friends in his life, it was impossible not to feel loved. In fact, Wheeler was grateful for each of them every day.

"Thanks, lil' mermaid."

"You go get her!" Gi laughed gleefully, lost in their tight embrace. "And be sure to give us all the happy ending we've been dreaming about!"

* * *

Wheeler was dumbfounded as he stepped out of the taxi into the frigid evening air. Moscow was lightly blanketed in snow, the streets heavy with traffic, and he turned to the driver once he realized he was the one honking his horn. Apparently, Wheeler had been so taken by the sight of the majestic hotel facing him he'd completely ignored the poor man, who was in a hurry to escape the mayhem of rush hour surrounding the Red Square. The American smiled apologetically and handed the driver some folded bills, urging him to keep the change. The man waved in gratitude and hurried off down the busy street, and Wheeler turned back to the sight facing him.

The hotel was as luxurious as anything his eyes had ever taken in. It was bathed in the soft glow of hundreds of lights, like a ship at sea, and he took in a deep breath before venturing inside. Imposing glass doors were pulled open for him, and a man dressed in a sharp uniform offered him a smile as he ushered the uncharacteristically-shy American inside. He felt very small in that spectacular setting. Pleasant warmth met his skin, as well as the smell of something like fresh lilies, and his mouth nearly dropped open. The lobby's gilded interior was reminiscent of the 19th century. Massive chandeliers were sparkling like diamonds over the antique furniture, high ceilings seeming infinite. Someone offered him a tall flute of champagne, and he took it, without remembering if he had voiced a thank-you in response. Wheeler moved as if in a dream towards the imposing reception desk, where he explained about the wedding, and moments later he was shown to a closed off room that looked like a dining hall. He thanked the friendly woman and she pulled open the door slightly for him before walking back to the check-in desk. The sound of her high heels reverberated on the perfectly-polished porcelain floor tiles.

Wheeler took two more calming deep breaths before entering, and he quickly downed the content of his glass for extra strength. His stomach was filled with butterflies, his senses filled with nervous anxiety. He was like a man betting all his life savings on one particular game, and the tension of the outcome was killing him. He wasn't sure what he would do if Linka chose to quarantine him from her life. Not that he didn't deserve it, but the mere thought of it caused his breathing to come out labored.

The American peeked inside the hall and the view was astounding. There were innumerous tables all decorated in white. Centerpieces with real flowers were scattered about on the fine linen tablecloths. White roses, freesias, and lilies, all illuminated by the adjacent candles on the tables. The arch shaped windows overlooked the lights of the city, where delicate snow had begun to fall. There was a live orchestra playing pleasant, tame music in the farthest corner of the room, and couples were dancing on the designated wooden area.

Thankfully, the hall wasn't filled to capacity, and he was able to spot Mishka and the bride, who were talking and laughing while a small circle of people surrounded them. Wheeler walked in their direction, but his eyes were really searching for Linka. He was so taken by the task at hand that he nearly missed his name being called by a booming voice.

"Wheeler!"

It was Mishka, and Wheeler smiled as he approached. The imposing Russian man took his wife's hand, excusing them from their little group of friends. Mishka was very elegant and handsome in his tuxedo, and Wheeler had to admit that Gi had been right, indeed. Linka had some gene pool! Tall and broad shouldered with wavy blonde hair, Mishka easily stood out among the crowd, like his sister often did.

The American was pleasantly surprised by his sudden bear hug, and he patted the Russian on the back.

"Linka said you would not be able to make it," Mishka revealed, a hint of a question in his voice. He was eyeing the redhead as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

"I wouldn't miss your big day, man," Wheeler shrugged easily with a smile, and Mishka grinned happily in response.

"I am very glad, then! Ah, let me introduce you to my bride. This is Natasha."

The way his eyes were sparkling told Wheeler everything. The woman beside him was smiling in a similar fashion. Beautiful and equally elegant, Natasha stood tall, black hair and blue eyes, her demeanor kind and relaxed. Wheeler kissed her hand charmingly and smiled.

"Mishka is one lucky man," he nodded, causing Mishka to laugh out loud.

"So, you are Linka's American," Natasha stated, carefully appraising him with a secretive smile. Wheeler couldn't have been happier to discover that Linka had been talking about him. He hoped it was the good side of him she had chosen to disclose, anyway.

"Speaking of which, where can I find her?"

Mishka turned to look past a crowd of people before newly focusing on him. "She was with Grandmushka but a minute ago. You will bring her over to the bar, later, _da_? I think some vodka shots are in order. The night is still young and I only plan to get married once!"

They laughed while Natasha elbowed him in the ribs.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Wheeler grinned, high fiving Mishka. "I'll see you guys later."

Making his way through the crowds while leaving behind the newlyweds, Wheeler was finally able to spot Linka. His heart beat with loud approval. She was standing off to the side, looking intently at the couples on the dance floor, her face unreadable. She had on a faraway expression; in her hand was a flute filled with champagne she had not touched. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and in that moment he knew he would beg for her forgiveness on his hands and knees if he had to. Linka's soft curves were clad in a lavender dress that flowed to the floor, and her hair was partly pinned up and partly loose on her bare shoulders. She looked like a fairy princess, miraculously glorious, and surely not aware of it.

Wheeler knew walking up to her would somehow break the spell, so he did the next best thing. He had to somehow prove his love to her, his genuine need of her in his life, and he hoped she would at least let him try his hand at it.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Excuse me," Wheeler mumbled once he had climbed onstage, trying his best to hide behind the tall bass player as he tapped the singer on the back. The lady turned and lent him her ear, probably used to trying to keep the show going and hearing requests simultaneously. Her curly red hair was bright and eye-catching; it resembled a big balloon about her head, and her make-up was even more alarming up close. It was reminiscent of the late eighties, all bright pastels and hot pinks. Wheeler was very glad that at least her singing voice was just the right blend of bluesy and soft. It was pleasant to listen to, gripping. He leaned in to speak close to her ear and was glad when she nodded with a smile of approval, before giving him the thumbs up sign.

With a relieved 'thank you', Wheeler climbed down the stage and patiently waited for his cue. He took to nervously pacing by the dance floor, his mind travelling at the speed of light. His eyes searched for Linka once more, and he slowly approached her, careful not to be seen. Her back was to him, the creaminess of her skin accentuated even more so by her bare shoulders. A tall couple was blocking his path, and he took advantage of the situation to move behind them and steal a glance at her face. There was something heart-wrenching about her posture and the light of her eyes. It was subtle, someone else may not have been able to detect anything was amiss with the beautiful blonde, but he knew her well enough to know that was not the case. There was a sadness to her, as if she were incredibly _lonely_ at the moment. This should have been their night to be together, after all. It had surely meant a great deal to Linka, for him to accompany her as she had originally planned. It was almost like a private declaration of her feeling, and he had let her down in an enormous way. The American Planeteer only hoped it wasn't too late to make amends.

When the familiar notes of the song he knew so well started up, he felt a light tingle travelling down his spine. His heart was beating faster and faster as he walked purposefully towards Linka. He watched as recognition played on her face while she listened to the song, and her expression became even more pained. The corners of her mouth turned downwards, and she blinked far-away eyes while her arms circled her waist protectively. Wheeler wished he could beat himself up for causing her such visible anguish. There was nothing more in the world he wanted at the moment than to comfort her, let her know how incredibly loved she was. He decided that if Linka gave him a final chance tonight, he would spend eternity trying to make it up to her. He didn't matter anymore, everything was about his blonde angel, instead.

"May I have this dance?" Wheeler smiled tentatively, and he was surprised to discover his voice was trembling. His hand gently took a hold of hers, and Linka looked up at him absently. Once she fully realized who had been speaking to her, surprise colored her eyes, and her mouth formed a perfect little circle. Wheeler would have laughed at her outrageous expression had he not been so focused on the task of leading her on the dance floor. Once there, his arms wrapped securely around her waist and they somehow started swaying lightly to the beat. Her flowery scent drifted to him, familiar, and he happily breathed it in. Linka continued to remain shell-shocked, examining him with the air of someone who wants to ask a million questions all at once. But nothing came out of her mouth. Wheeler decided it was best to let the song he had chosen speak, for it was a clear mirror of what lay in his soul. His eyes bore into hers, every glance filled with meaning, as the music notes overtook the hall, saturating the air with their sweetness.

 _I keep crying,_

 _I keep trying for you_

 _There's nothing like_

 _You and I, baby_

 _This is no ordinary love_

 _No ordinary love…_ *****

Wheeler's arms wrapped more firmly about her and his hand moved up to caress her bare shoulder. For an endless second, they were lost inside each other's eyes. Linka was taken with examining him, as if concentration could help her understand his true depth. Wheeler decided it was time to stop making her wonder. This was it. Finally, the right time for the naked truth.

"Do you know why I like this song so much?" the redhead neared his lips to her ear, thinking about how exquisite it would be to leave a trail of kisses all over her neck and collarbone. He could already taste the sweetness of her luscious skin. There were so many reasons to be distracted right now, but he prayed to remain as focused as a soldier receiving orders. This was a matter of life or death, after all.

"Because the singer is a gorgeous woman?" Linka bantered after a moment's pause, her tone flat, her eyes uncertain as she focused on his expression. Wheeler held back a laugh when her lips acquired that soft pout of hers, and he shook his head a little. He deserved her wariness, Wheeler decided, but at least she didn't look ready to smack him up again, even though God knew he deserved it.

"Ok, that may be part of it," he joked, hoping to lighten her mood a little as he sought out her eyes once more. "But, there's another reason. The song… it talks about how important things are worth fighting for. And there's _nothing_ that's more important to me than you, babe, so I'm ready to fight until my very last breath for you."

His hand travelled up to her face and he delivered light caresses to her skin. Wheeler sighed a little before continuing, and the words that tumbled out came from the depths of his heart.

"Linka, there's nothing ordinary about us. I bet everyone here is probably thinking 'what's a girl like her doing with a guy like that?'. And you know what? They're absolutely right. I don't deserve you. I'll never be good enough for you. But I want to spend the rest of my life _trying_ to be everything you need. Because I figured out I love you, and nothing else matters outside of that."

The Russian girl stopped moving, her breath catching in her throat at his words. Her eyes were scanning his, searching, and they softened in the process.

"And that does not scare you?" Linka's voice was barely audible over the background of her emotions. Her eyes had become visibly watery, and she blinked to maintain control.

"It terrifies me," Wheeler conceded, and she gave a little cry of shock at his answer. His hands cupped her face, bringing her closer with the movement, and he touched his forehead to hers. The orchestra playing could not drown out the accelerated beating of his heart; he could hear nothing outside of it.

"The thought of losing you, that would be more than I could bear. We were apart for a week and I got to see what my life would be like without you. If I had stayed in Brooklyn, if I had stayed with my ex, if Gaia had never summoned me… I got to experience all that. And I couldn't stand any of it, even though I wasn't sure about your feelings for me. Because it was _you_ I wanted, it's _you_ I can't live without, babe. I'm sorry for making a mess of everything, for almost giving up on you, and I'm sorry for any other dumb thing I've done that's hurt you. I'm ready to treat you like the queen you are, no more bullshit, no more hiding, no more wondering, no more mistakes. Just… tell me that's what you want, too, babe. Tell me it's not too late to start being together the way we're meant to be."

Linka's eyes were a kaleidoscope of emotions at this point, each one almost catching the light like a miniature diamond. Wheeler had never seen her so vulnerable, so open, and his heart was cracking in a million pieces at the thought that she'd been hurting over him. How could he lead her to doubt him so? It was unforgivable.

"You… _love_ me?"

The American nodded like a fool at Linka's incredulous query, unable to find any more words, before kissing her cheek tenderly. Her tone was so disbelieving that he wondered, not for the first time, if he was really _that_ horrible at letting his love filter through. Like hell if he wasn't going to dedicate his whole life to making Linka feel utterly and perfectly cherished from now on! Wheeler felt it like a new calling befalling on his shoulders. He finally knew what he had to do, he'd already lost so much precious time…

"I love you more than anything else in this world, Linka," Wheeler whispered solemnly as he pulled her closer to his chest. His mouth sought out hers, and he poured himself into that one kiss. Linka's response was careful at first, unsure, but it took mere moments for her to abandon herself to him in a way that made his heart do cartwheels in his chest. He never would have thought such perfect chemistry could exist between two people, especially that it could be a part of _his_ life. It could go to one's head like a sturdy wine, damning all rationality to hell, and he basked in the glorious feeling.

Wheeler pulled away from Linka's lips slightly and his glance swept over her. When her emerald eyes opened to look at him, he wasn't sure his being could contain the immense joy that lay in his heart.

"This does not feel real," the blonde girl voiced with wonder. "Maybe it is a dream." Her hand moved to stroke his cheek, almost as if to prove her theory right, and Wheeler smiled. He moved his head to kiss her fingertips, before newly resting his cheek against her palm.

"Jacob… I have spent the last few days being angry at myself, at you. I never thought I could be so miserable. It is very hard for me to deal with all these emotions. This was exactly what I was afraid of when I pushed you away time and again. It is all so very… _extremely_ intense."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, darlin'," Wheeler readily remarked, his voice lowering as he pulled her even closer. His glance fell to her lips, then back to her eyes again. He wanted to drink as much of her in as possible, as if she were miracle water in the desert.

"It's intense because it's _real_ , and I can't think of anything I want to devote myself more to than that. It's what everyone dreams of finding, what love songs are made of."

The first hint of a smile played on Linka's lips and she shook her head up at him a little. Her eyes were emanating a soft light that was going straight to his head, the effect potent.

"You are making it difficult to find valid arguments against your reasoning, Yankee."

"No more arguing, then, please, babe! We've already spent so much time fighting what should be, it's basically a crime!"

"So what are you suggesting we do, then?" Linka inquired, her tone still careful.

Wheeler could not help but flash her his trademark smirk.

"We're doing a pretty good job right now," he nodded, pleased. "You know, relaxing, enjoying each other's company, sneakin' in a kiss every now and again."

Wheeler felt the need to demonstrate, over the moon that Linka seemed to lose her bearings with the intimate contact just as much as he did.

Wheeler heard her soft intake of breath and her eyes dwelled into his, before her arms clasped around his neck. Linka's brows furrowed together a little as she thought about her next words, and her voice came out like satin when she spoke next.

"So… everything you are saying… that means… we are a couple? Like, a _real_ couple?"

Wheeler nearly laughed at her tentative tone, for she was trying very hard to decipher the meaning of their private conversation. They needed to eliminate all barriers, all assumptions between them, so that they could be on the same page. Guessing games had done nothing but hurt them thus far, annihilated their peace of mind, so it was only fair that Linka wanted him to spell it out now.

"Hell yes!"

His fingers caressed the line of her jaw, tracing the delicate contours, before his eyes became serious once again.

"But first I need to know something. Do you love me? I mean, I know I keep doing dumb shit…"

Wheeler was pleasantly surprised at the sparkling smile that graced Linka's features. Slowly, she moved in to kiss him, her movements controlled but sure, effectively shutting him up. He could only take it as a sign that she finally felt safe enough to open up to him about her emotions, and this delighted him immensely.

Her display of affection was sweet albeit brief, and she readily sought out his eyes.

" _Da_ ," Linka whispered with a soft blush on her cheeks as she looked up at him under long eyelashes.

" _Da_ you love me or _da_ about me doin' dumb shit all the time?"

She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. " _Da_ to both."

"If that is not a reason to celebrate, I don't know what is!" laughed Wheeler, leaning down to take in the scent of her hair. The flowery and fruity concoction tickled his nose, and he held Linka closer to him. He could not stand for their bodies to be too far apart, he wanted to feel her close to his heartbeat. _She_ was the reason for its erratic beating, after all.

"Speaking of celebrations, your brother wanted us at the bar so we can get totally tanked on vodka shots. Sounds like a fun family tradition."

" _Nyet_!" Linka was openly laughing now. "Do not _even_ try to out-drink Mishka at his party! Besides, I would not want for you to forget anything about tonight, Yankee."

"It's highly unlikely I'd forget the best night of my life, babe," Wheeler replied, suavely. "Right now, I'm dancing with the most stunning woman in all of Moscow. That's bound to go to a guy's head worse than vodka!"

They spontaneously moved in for another kiss, and Wheeler felt as if the world was set to 'perfect' mode in that instant. It was all he had ever wanted, he realized, caressing Linka's soft cheek as he deepened their kiss. His heart had always been set on it, even when his mind had rebelled against it. His life so far had caused him to be wary of binding emotions, but with Linka, his old habits were lost to the wind. She made him want to be different, better.

The momentum of their deep kiss was stunning him, taking his breath away. Even kissing was a whole different ball game with Linka because of the feelings behind it. It was _sacred_ , somehow. If heaven was nothing like this, then he never wanted to go. This was utter bliss, perfection. His need for Linka was greater than anything else he'd ever thought possible, and any sort of resistance was unthinkable.

"Do you want all the guests to think that _you_ are the newlyweds?"

A voice overflowing with humor interrupted the romantic interlude, and Wheeler and Linka both turned to see Mishka and Natasha hovering nearby. Linka's face colored considerably and Natasha was giggling.

"You two are so cute," the bride gushed, her cheeks flushed as she held on to Mishka's hand tightly. His arm was solid about her waist; they were the picture of love at the moment.

"We're also celebrating something, in a way," Wheeler grinned, his eyes darting back to Linka.

"Grandmushka is so delighted she is buying drinks for everyone!" Mishka laughed while winking at Linka, who groaned audibly.

"Cool! And next year, when you two have your first wedding anniversary, Linka an' me will be celebrating being together for one whole year!"

"All I can say is be careful about pissing her off, my friend!"

"Mishka!" Linka scolded him with fire in her eyes, and Wheeler choked on his laughter.

"Oh, I think I've maxed out the number of times I've done that so far, so we should be good for a while!"

Linka was pouting at their laughter, but nothing could wreck the warm atmosphere that had been created. Mishka patted Wheeler on the back affectionately and Natasha waved to them, and soon the pair was left alone once again as the bride and groom disappeared in the crowd.

"Did you mean that?" Linka was asking of him once his eyes newly settled on her face.

"About not pissing you off? I'll sure as hell try, babe!"

"Not that," Linka shook her head, and she let one hand run down the front of his shirt slowly. "About being together for an entire year."

"Not just _one_ year, I hope," Wheeler smiled a little, placing a fleeting kiss on her nose. "That is, if you're brave enough to take me on."

The wide smile on Linka's face told him she had already accepted her mission. He did not know what he could have done to deserve such benevolence, but he was forever thankful for it.

"Hmm, well, it might take some more convincing," the Russian girl remarked saucily, and Wheeler lost no time claiming her mouth and showing her his infinite affection.

* * *

 ***** Lyrics from the song "No Ordinary Love" by Sade, from the album "Love Deluxe"

* * *

 **A/N:** Did Wheeler redeem himself? Is this a fairly "happy ending" for our fave pair? What you were expecting/not? Let me know with a **review** :) This chapter took a lot out of me, I edited it for days and days, trying to find the right balance between Wheeler expressing his feelings and Linka's reaction to them. The good thing about it is that I got to listen to a lot of Sade in the process, and that always makes me happy! If you've never heard the song above, you're missing out on _real_ music and a gorgeous video! :) So, anybody out there want to see how Wheeler and Linka's night progresses? I think that's in order...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The stroke of midnight did not see the belle of the ball fleeing. On the contrary, Linka let Wheeler hold her hand, keeping their fingers laced firmly together, as she introduced him to various cousins, relatives, and family friends. Wheeler was in awe of her. She was like a glowing angel, her cheeks a warm shade of pink whenever anyone commented on their relationship status. Thankfully, everyone was in high spirits and very welcoming of him, Grandmushka being the most obvious about it. With her endearing broken English and toothy grin, Wheeler could not help but like her best. The old woman had a warmness that radiated off her like a small sun. Treating him as if he'd always been part of the family, Grandmushka kissed both his cheeks and invited him to dinner at her house the following day. She joked that even if Linka wasn't the best example of it, Russian women could _indeed_ cook. Wheeler laughed and Linka reprimanded her Grandmushka in their native tongue. The older woman could only wink conspiratorially at Wheeler, who continued to laugh.

The young couple walked her to the entrance, where she was getting ready to leave with Linka's uncle, Dimitri. When Wheeler gallantly helped her into her fur coat, Grandmushka rewarded him with a warm smile, before adding that it was late, and that early morning hours were meant for young people only. She was tired. The bride and groom had long said their goodbyes to the guests, and a considerable number of people were getting ready to leave the hall. Some were enticed to stay longer by the warm music notes coming from within, a stark contrast to the chill that surely awaited them outside.

Linka moved to kiss the elderly lady's lined cheek, and Wheeler could see the love that flowed between them. Linka was very protective of her grandmother, undoubtedly seeing her more as a mother than a relative. It was plain to see that the feeling was reciprocated. Grandmushka leaned in more to say a few words to her granddaughter in Russian, and Linka's face colored considerably. Wheeler listened as she answered back in their native tongue, forever captivated by how fascinating the words that left her mouth sounded. He could pick out very little, and decided that he wanted to learn more if Linka had the patience to teach him. They'd already covered swear words one time in the Geo Cruiser, bored as they'd been by the long flight. But the American highly doubted that would get him very far if he should find himself in a conversation with any of Linka's relatives.

"What did Gran say just before leavin'?" Wheeler inquired of the blonde beauty once they were newly alone. His arm was draped around her waist and he brought her closer just because he could. He would never get tired of that, not in a million years.

" _Bozhe moi_ , Grandmushka lives to eternally embarrass me! I do not know who is worse, her or Mishka!" Linka rolled her eyes skywards, but nothing could cloud her happy state of mind. Wheeler was pleased as he took in her slight smile. She had the air of a kid at a carnival, and he was ecstatic that her euphoria was induced by nothing but their love. Even though they had given in to Mishka's shot game earlier just to please him, they had quickly called it quits after a couple of rounds. Both were aware that this night was special, and neither of them wanted to do anything that would spoil their recollection of it.

"Come on, we promised no more secrets," Wheeler was pouting comically at her, and Linka giggled a little. He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear and waited for her to speak.

"Grandmushka is very taken with you," Linka smiled, and he could tell this pleased her very much. "So she just wanted us to enjoy tonight. Apparently, I am to allow you to kiss me as often as you like because you are very attractive. Oh, and she _really_ misses being my age."

Wheeler laughed out loud before circling Linka's waist from behind. He nuzzled her cheek while drawing her closer to his chest, and he felt her warm touch on his hands.

"Damn, she's the best Grandmushka _ever_!"

It was Linka's turn to laugh. Then, " _Bohze moi_ , she is going to want details tomorrow!"

Wrapped in each other and content about it, they watched as more people headed to the coat check, ready to call it a night. Wheeler noticed that the ladies were more or less all equipped with stylish fur coats (what he hoped was _faux_ fur, anyway) and matching Cossack hats, while the men bustled about in long tweed coats and scarves. In the hasty flight from a tropical island, he had not even thought to bring any sort of coat to go over his suit. But that was the least of his problems. He had also not booked any sort of accommodation for the night.

"I really should have thought this through," he mumbled aloud to himself, before Linka craned her neck to get a better view of his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I was just thinkin' that I completely overlooked having to spend the night here! _Oy_! I'm homeless! In Moscow! At one in the freakin' mornin'!"

Linka was quietly laughing at his distressed melodramatic speech, not nearly as alarmed as he was, apparently.

"Uncle Dimitri has booked me a room here for tonight. He did not want me to feel left out, apparently, and I could not refuse, of course. After all, how many more opportunities will I get to stay at the Ritz-Carlton? So, you may stay with me, Yankee. That is… if you want to. The room is certainly big enough. But… it is okay if you do not want to. I mean… it is your choice, naturally."

A smile appeared on Wheeler's lips when he realized that Linka was rambling. He could see that familiar blush creep on her cheeks and he kissed the rosy hue there before speaking.

"I don't have a problem stayin', but I wouldn't want you to feel pressured to let me stay. I don't wanna invade your space or anything, babe. I can sleep pretty much anywhere, as you know, so the floor of the Cruiser will be fine for tonight. Really."

The American was surprised when Linka turned around in his arms, locking her arms about his neck and bringing his face closer to hers. The green of her eyes was lush like a meadow at springtime, and his heart gave a little thump of approval at how beautiful she was.

" _Nyet_ , Jacob, I could never sleep knowing you are uncomfortable and cold somewhere. You do not have to worry, I trust you."

Wheeler kissed her just because she was incredibly adorable in her pursuit to convince him and her tone of voice vastly affectionate. It touched him. He wanted to be wrapped up in that forever, like a soft, woolen shawl that offered comfort.

"I guess it would be wrong to turn down a pretty girl's request to share a hotel room," he grinned a little, already anticipating her annoyed reaction at his words. No one knew her better than he did, and he had to admit that he enjoying getting a rise out of her. He kissed away her pout and sought out her eyes, amused.

" _Especially_ when that pretty girl is your girlfriend, the love of your life."

Linka softened at his clarification and her mouth gravitated towards his. He wasted little time molding her body to his, his tongue tasting the insides of her mouth, and the contact electrified him. Linka had said that she trusted him, but he started wondering if he should trust _himself_. In the past, there had always been a ready mark that told him how far to take things with Linka. An invisible boundary, of sorts. They had been colleagues, friends, and those labels had always dictated their intimacy somehow, created order. But now it was different. The love they had confessed to one another was presently guiding their actions, saturating every touch, and even ending a kiss seemed to require increased effort. Linka was no longer pulling away from him, running, or hiding behind a million excuses. Her skin seemed to crave his touch, her body was comfortable being tightly pressed against his, and she got lost inside the moment just as much as he did. The physical intimacy between them had turned into a game with no referee. There seemed to be no sense of rules or limits. And sharing a room was going to give them total privacy, mused Wheeler, further adding to their sense of couple hood.

The American could only pray for self-restraint.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys! This was a short little chapter, the next one is much longer, so I better get started on editing :) Don't forget to share your thoughts, thanks!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The hotel room was spacious and softly lit. The décor was straight out of an interior design magazine, flawless and regal. Persian-type rugs covered the elegant wooden floors. The large bed occupied the center of the room, various pillows with golden patterns scattered against the tall headboard. Matching curtains concealed a spacious balcony overlooking the city. Wheeler had never been in a more luxurious place, and he noticed that Linka seemed unsure of herself in such a context, as well. They were so used to 'roughing it' in tents or cheap motels while working as Planeteers that this extravagance suddenly felt foreign. But it was grand to feel like royalty at least once in a while, decided the redhead with a smile.

He turned to his girlfriend (that simple _label_ made his insides scream with delight) to appraise her reaction. The blonde gave him a timid smile in turn, clasping her hands neatly in front of her. She blinked up at him, and Wheeler conceded her a moment with her thoughts. Her eyes swept over the room, her neatly placed clothes hanging in the closet, the makeup arranged on the little desk by the vanity mirror, before she met his eyes again. Linka took a few steps out into the vast room, then faced him once more.

"This is the longest I have ever seen you wearing a tie," was Linka's observation, and he replied nonverbally, with such a face that caused her to laugh.

"You're right! Oh my God, get it off!" Wheeler complained theatrically, bringing his hands to the torturous device around his neck as if it were a repulsive snake trying to choke him.

"Here, do not hurt yourself," Linka snickered while walking up to him. She stopped inches away, lifting her hands to loosen the tie. Wheeler let his eyes caress her lovely face as she concentrated on the task at hand. A very faint constellation of freckles were scattered over the bridge of her nose, the high cheekbones shaped her face attractively, the pouty rose-petal lips were soft and inviting, her skin porcelain smooth. When she lifted her eyes to his, the color of jade greeted him beneath long, curled eyelashes, and Wheeler couldn't fathom how anyone could be so beautiful and not know it. Or not _care_ about it, as was Linka's case. She gave her physical appearance very little importance, not relying on her beauty or dressing it up in the least bit. There had been more than a few instances where males had been rendered completely useless by her presence, their brains turning to mush at the mere sight of her. Wheeler could not blame them one bit, but it gravely annoyed Linka. She viewed her looks as in competition with her intelligence, and most people readily accepted the former while completely brushing off the latter. But she could never be _his_ Linka without her admirable smarts, Wheeler had decided long ago. Sure, great looks were nothing to throw away, but she stunned him in more ways than one, and that's what made Linka _the one_. He even adored her fiery temper, although he vowed to bring it out less often from now on. There were _other_ parts of her he wanted to discover now that they were together, the things that she guarded jealously from the rest of the world. Wheeler just knew that the rest of her would leave him equally breathless.

Linka disrupted his flow of thoughts by taking a small step back once she was finished with his tie. She moved to place it neatly on the desk, and the American could read a certain anxiety to her movements. Her thoughts seemed scattered, her hands fidgety, and she would meet his eyes for a fleeting second before newly moving her glance away.

"Do you wanna watch TV for a bit?" the redhead asked tentatively, and was glad when Linka gave him a nod followed by a small smile.

Wheeler took off his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt while searching for the remote. He could not stand formal attire at all, and was surprised he had lasted so long as it were. The magic of the night had dissolved those details into nothing.

He was about to turn towards the flat screen monitor before he heard Linka's voice. His eyes lifted and he nearly froze at the sight facing him.

"Do you… uhmm, mind helping me with my dress?" the Russian was asking of him, her head turned over one shoulder in his direction, her back to him as she moved her blonde tresses out of the way. Nestled in the fabric of the elegant dress was a long zip line that ran down Linka's back, starting below the shoulder blades all the way to her lower back.

"Uh, sure," Wheeler tried to answer nonchalantly, but he was certain his voice had come out all wrong. He swallowed the lump in his throat before wetting his lips, and strode towards the waiting beauty. The air was filled with static, a strange electricity that played with his body temperature. It was suddenly very hot in the room. He advanced towards her, his hands moving to gently brush Linka's hair aside, and when Wheeler met her eyes, time and space had exploded somewhere along the way. He could not take his eyes off hers, and his hands trembled a little with the delicate task of undoing her dress. Never would he have imagined that being near her would make him this nervous, exceedingly aware of himself. Oh, but he was dying for a kiss from those parted lips, and the recognition in Linka's eyes made him realize his thoughts had become transparent like glass. His fingers gently grazed her lovely skin along the way as they traveled downwards, its creaminess being revealed inch by inch. He watched spellbound as Linka took in a deep breath at his bold contact, her glance still chained to his. Wheeler was simply frozen. Or melted. Or whatever condition prevented him from thinking about anything else but how much he wanted her. How gorgeous she was. How deeply in love he felt.

But nothing could prepare him for what came next. The scene unfolded slowly before him, as if taking life from a dream. Hazy and real all wrapped into one heavenly moment. Linka was clutching the dress to her body as she slowly turned to face him, her back bare. Wheeler took in a deep breath as, unexpectedly, Linka let go of the fabric a moment later with sure movements. The dress pooled at her feet like a lilac haze, a flower in bloom, and she stood before him in cream colored lace undergarments.

There was very little he could do to hide the longing in his eyes, decided Wheeler. It was an impossible task. He let his glance linger on the soft mounds lifted by the lacey bra, the perfect curve of her hips, the flat stomach begging for a touch, her long, toned legs bared in all their glory. The American could think of nothing else but caressing her skin and tracing her curves.

Linka moved wordlessly in his arms, offering her lips, from which he attached himself to at length, tasting her essence. His hands crushed her form to his body, banning even air between them, and every logical thought flew from Wheeler's brain like birds from a nest. Linka softly moaned against him, her hands warm on his chest. In an attempt to bring her even closer, Wheeler's hands became tangled in her hair. Their mouths were crashing into each other, rough kisses that had been held back all night long, only to find release in private. Wheeler let his hands roam her body, stopping at her breasts for a squeeze before traveling to her hips, wanting to mold her to his body, for her to feel his insane need of her. He was craving Linka in a way that was alarming, and somewhere in the more logical side of his brain, a little voice was reminding him to do things right. He could not afford whims with Linka, could not let things get too out of hand. He had almost lost her because of his irresponsible actions; he did not think he could live through that again.

"Babe," Wheeler exhaled, holding her face delicately between his hands as his eyes opened to look at her. What he saw did nothing to calm his raging desire for her. Linka's cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. And when she opened her eyes to look at him, he saw his same urgency reflected in her unfocussed eyes.

"Babe," the American repeated more calmly, placing a soft kiss on her parted lips. "You're gonna have to be the voice of reason here, okay? I'm not gonna be very good at stopping, and I don't want you to have any regrets. _Ever_. I could never forgive myself if something happened that you're not completely one-hundred-percent okay with. I'm done hurting you. From now on, I only want to make you happy."

"I was very happy a moment ago," Linka readily replied, her tone soft and dreamy, stunning him a little. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she reached on her toes, closing the distance between them. Her mouth was on his, and Wheeler instantly responded to her passion, his head spinning a little.

"You are assuming that I can be 'the voice of reason' between us," Linka whispered a moment later, and a tiny smile was playing on her lips. Wheeler felt his lungs on fire, like the rest of his body. He could no longer deny he needed Linka like he needed air.

"But what if I cannot? Or if I do not _want_ to?"

By this point, Wheeler's heart was getting ready to explode inside his chest. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin there, before placing tiny kisses along the line of her jaw.

"What is it that you want, then?" he whispered close to her ear. Her ready blush amused him, but he sought out her eyes all the same. She needed to walk him through this new phase of their relationship, for he did not want to get it all wrong. Linka would have to be his beacon, ready to illuminate each step.

"I am not sure, exactly," replied the Wind Planeteer, shaking her head to herself a little. She took in a breath and once more her eyes dwelled into his. Her hands ran through his hair, caressing the base of his neck, and her mouth neared his. Wheeler was holding his breath at her delicate movements, afraid to break the glorious spell.

"All I know right now is that I do not want you to stop."

Linka's voice was above a whisper, her breathing mixing into her words, and Wheeler's lips hovered over hers. It was very difficult keeping his actions in check, and all of Wheeler's energy was going into that, when really, all he wanted was to lay her down on the bed and cover every inch of her skin with hot kisses.

"But you'll tell me if you want to stop?" he pressed on, pleading with her to somehow help him keep his head above the sultry haze.

Linka gave a little smile at his pained request, recognizing the effort behind it, and nodded, before meeting his lips in a kiss.

The redhead sighed, finding heaven once more. He would have smiled, had his lips not been momentarily occupied, at Linka's mission to undress him. She had unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands over his broad chest and strong shoulders. He helped her with the rest until he remained only in his boxers, before gently lifting his siren in his arms. Linka coiled herself around him in response, and his teeth gently bit down on her lower lip, stifling her moans with more kisses.

Wheeler walked her to the bed, where he placed her with care, before extending himself over her length. Linka's hands were pressing his body down onto hers, all the while exploring the muscles on his lower back. He took to tracing light patterns on her stomach while his mouth attached itself to her neck. He licked the sensitive skin, grazing it delicately with his teeth, until Linka's moans filled the room. Her sounds very lovely, passionate and feminine like he always dreamed she would be in his arms. His hardness was pressed up against the flimsy lace of her panties, and Wheeler bit his lip to keep from moaning when Linka pushed back against his pressure. His body was eager to shift into overdrive, his instincts those of a tiger, but he continued to call on self-control. Linka definitely wasn't ready for what his brain was secretly depicting, and given what she'd disclosed about her previous sexual encounter, Wheeler wanted to take things slow, place great care in every detail, fill every void that had been neglected. He made it his mission.

The fire Planeteer let his hands freely roam the delicate shapes of Linka's body. Very little effort went into unclasping the sexy bra, and the next thing he knew, his mouth was claiming her perfect breasts, tasting and teasing the territory until he heard her unintelligible murmurs of passion. Her skin was peaches-and-cream smooth, her breasts almost disappearing beneath his large hands, the rest of her skin impatient for his touches; Wheeler simply could not believe she was his.

"You're perfect," whispered the American with a small smile, finding her ear. He punctuated his words with a kiss on the side of her neck. "Incredibly beautiful," he continued with another kiss directly below the last one. "So gorgeous."

His trail of kisses knew no bounds and he heard her happy giggles in response. His heart was filled with glowing warmth for her; he felt he could not get close enough.

"Did I mention mind-numbingly sexy?" Wheeler's voice lowered as he placed another kiss near the hollow of her neck. He felt her hands lifting his head gently until their eyes locked.

"Mmm, flattery may get you somewhere this time," Linka laughed quietly and he joined her, before newly claiming her mouth. Wheeler could taste her love for him in that kiss, all they shared, and he was astounded that it went way beyond the physical. It was a kindred connection of sorts, a meeting of the souls. Something he had never felt before but had always craved.

Both their bodies were impatient to be joined, yet somehow lulled by the sweet anticipation of what was to come. When Wheeler felt her ready beneath his fingers, the heat of her completely intoxicating his senses, he gradually pushed himself inside her. All the while, he was covering her face with soothing, loving kisses. He was glad he would never have to explain out loud how it felt to be finally making love to Linka, because he was sure words would fail him. Nothing could describe the experience, no canvas could contain the sacred merging of their beings into one. It was natural, like breathing, but the pleasure divine, and he got lost in the sensations.

Wheeler drove himself deeper into her core, and he heard his name coming from Linka's lips, a siren song filled with passion and desire. She moved against him, her shyness misplaced, and he moaned into her kiss. Her body was meeting his pace as if they had been lovers for decades, even though he could tell that each sensation was new to Linka. Her face acquired a type of surprised delight with each one of his moves, and he decided he loved watching the pleasure drawn all over her lovely features.

Steadying the weight of his body as it hovered over hers, Wheeler set a steady pace within her, all the while covering her neck and breasts with slow kisses. Linka was like molten lava against him, and holding back was proving to be no easy task. But he wanted to feel her release before his own, to watch her come undone in his arms, to enjoy her pleasure as if it were his own. He picked up his pace, and Linka moaned out her approval, intent to keep up with him. But he could feel her resistance wavering, her control lessening, and he filled her with more purpose.

"I love you," Wheeler murmured against her cheek, his heart overflowing with the emotion. He nearly smiled when she answered back in Russian, a string of lovely words he failed to understand, pleased that her brain could get just as clouded when he was concerned. He felt her nails in his back, and her moans held a pleading note by this point. Linka's legs had wound themselves around him and he let out a few moans himself, completely over his head at this point. Nothing was real outside of his thrusts, perfectly timed and powerfully executed. Nothing else mattered outside of that physical connection, the pulsating rhythm ancient as time as it overtook the young couple.

And finally, or suddenly, he felt Linka tremble violently against him, her insides quaking and shivering at his intimate contact, and she was lost in her sea of complete pleasure. She was calling out to him loudly, desperately, and Wheeler lost his own battle of holding on. Waves of pleasure washed over his entire being, and they held on tightly to each other; he'd be perfectly happy never letting go.

The thoroughly satisfied American collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily against her chest. Linka was taking in similar amounts of oxygen, and for a moment, they both caught their breath in silence. It was Wheeler who moved first, disentangling himself from her, before rolling onto his back and gently taking her with him. His hands smoothed her hair over her back with tender caresses until he felt her breathing coming out more regular. Linka was cuddled into his chest comfortably, her skin flushed prettily from their activities, eyes fluttering and a soft smile gracing her lips.

Wheeler's mind was blissfully empty. His fingers stroked her shoulder blades, tracing the line of her spine, before travelling up to her neck. It was if he wanted to make sure that Linka was really there in his arms, that what they'd just shared had not just been another fantastic dream about her. He'd never felt so fulfilled, so completely at peace before.

Linka's soft sigh brought him back to the moment and he turned his head to sneak a peek at her face.

"Wow."

Wheeler bit back a bout of laughter at her dreamy tone of voice, and placed a finger underneath her chin so that he could meet her eyes.

"No regrets, then?" he smiled a little before kissing her gorgeous mouth. Wheeler let his glance linger on hers to try and capture the essence of what she was feeling. He desperately needed her to be as happy as he was, he could even deal with a lesser extent of that, since he doubted any other human being could equal his sense of joy at the moment.

"I regret not giving in to you earlier," the pretty Russian girl smiled up at him good-naturedly, and Wheeler laughed aloud.

"That was incredible, Yankee," Linka whispered in his ear, placing a light kiss on his jaw. "And you were totally right about everything. I am going to count _this_ as my first time, from now on. It is what every girl's first experience should be, anyway."

"Maybe it's 'cuz we're so much in love," Wheeler shared softly, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand while his eyes did the same with the rest of her face. "Let me tell ya, babe, I've never felt anything like that before."

Linka lifted herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, blinking up her big green eyes at him. Wheeler's thoughts went hazy in mere instants, and he doubted Linka would ever hold any less power over him.

"Really?" Her eyes were shining as prettily as Christmas lights, hopeful and bright, and his heart all but fluttered at the vision.

"Really."

The blonde girl kissed him happily, unable to stop her smile from spreading.

"Jacob, you are very romantic when you want to be. Everything tonight has been… _perfect_."

Linka's eyes were filled with warmth for him and he pulled her closer for another kiss, which he filled with similar emotion.

"Babe, I want to be whatever makes you happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

"All _I_ want is for you to be my Yankee."

Wheeler pulled her underneath him, kissing her lips and face while his hands found the curve of her hips.

"You promise to be my babe?"

"I already have tonight," Linka smiled up at him seductively, caressing his head gently. "Only, I did not use so many words."

"Words are _totally_ overrated," Wheeler bobbed his head along, and her happy laughter reached his ears. His head dipped so that he could kiss Linka at length and cuddle her like the treasure she was.

The Fire Planeteer was very well aware that he'd been blessed twice. First, by coming across true love, the kind that filled up your whole life with meaning and purpose, warmth and belonging. Second, he had fought in order to keep it alive in his life, and miraculously, he'd won, even after taking a few wrong turns along the way.

As he showered the girl in his arms with infinite affection, and as the snow continued to fall noiselessly outside the window, Wheeler realized that was no small feat.

* * *

A/N: I will have at least another chapter to tie things up, maybe more if you so desire! :P Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the other storyline I had going, and all good stories need closure...


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

Eight months later, it was New York's turn to be blanketed in crisp snow. Even if copious amounts had fallen overnight and it was slowing down the Big Apple somewhat, everyone was taken by the white spectacle in light of the holidays. It was two days before Christmas, to be exact. Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" was hummed with more gusto by the busy shoppers, and the dressed-up Santas on every street corner had tried to pack in an extra scarf or overcoat to try and keep warm. The temperature had taken a dip and the air was chilly. The store windows were shining with gift ideas, decorated with metallic hues that captured the light. Blasts of warm air, mixed in with cheery Christmas songs, escaped on the streets anytime the department store doors opened and closed.

Even though shopping wasn't high on his list of favorite activities, Wheeler had not minded being part of that throng of last minute shoppers. The American decided that it was solely due to the presence of his girlfriend beside him. Linka was ever so pretty and the picture of happiness as she examined the gift list in her hand. Having a mission pleased her, and he affectionately squeezed her hand in his. Wisps of her blonde locks peeked from her wooly hat, framing the delicate pink skin of her cheeks, and her pouty lips were set in concentration. Occasionally, she would meet his eyes to ask him what he thought of this and that gift idea for Gi or his mother or whoever was left that they had not already included. Linka would be lost in her thoughts and he would get lost in the green depths of her eyes, so Wheeler could only ever nod or offer some sort of monosyllabic response. The American could still not believe his reaction to her, even after being together all these months. Pure giddiness, not unlike the one present at slumber parties, and complete awe. His heart continued to ache for her, even though he finally had her utmost affection. He almost expected to wake up one day and be less moved by her beauty or her smile, her thoughts and her laughter, but every day he felt more hopelessly in love than the last. Wheeler happily decided this was something he could definitely live with.

The smitten American squeezed her hand again as they continued their journey down the busy street, this time leaning down to capture her mouth in a kiss. The world stopped, along with Linka, who readily returned his kiss, and it was as if everyone else around them had disappeared. Wheeler was very satisfied that he'd come to change Linka's view on public displays of affection. While it was in her nature to be more private about her emotions, Wheeler had found that he could not hold back the need to kiss her whenever they were out together. Getting lost inside each other happened frequently, and it was difficult to contain it exclusively to more private settings. Wheeler had long ago stopped trying to understand the emotions that bubbled out of him whenever Linka was concerned; his brain was constantly on the spin cycle whenever he was in the presence of the Russian Planeteer.

"I know you do not need a reason to kiss me, but what was that for?" asked the blonde girl with a warm smile once they'd parted, and Wheeler caressed her cheek before newly pulling her along.

"For agreeing to come spend Christmas with my family on such a short notice. I know you like to plan things out a little more carefully."

She rewarded him with a beautiful smile. "With the way the mission was going, I did not think any of us would get to celebrate Christmas at all," Linka shrugged, following Wheeler's lead as he maneuvered them past two women who were trying to manage a small group of zealous children.

The Fire Planeteer nodded, grateful that their work in Australia was finally wrapped up so that they could indeed celebrate the holidays properly. Plus, he would have found it difficult to really feel the Christmas spirit while sunbathing on the other part of the equator. Somehow, it just wasn't Christmas without the usual pile of snow that needed to be cleared before venturing outside. And this year, he had an incredible reason for celebrating, or better, and incredible _person_ with which to share the festivities.

As expected, his mom had demanded that he bring Linka along, so that they could finally all have a proper meal together. She and Linka had met during their work as Planeteers, but only very briefly. Over the phone, his mom had disclosed that she was looking forward to celebrating her husband's health improvements, as well as showing off their newly renovated apartment. Wheeler knew, however, that his mom's biggest wish was to spend time with Linka and get to know her better. The older woman really was curious about the girl who had stolen her son's heart in such a fierce way, and Wheeler could easily envision her smile whenever he talked to her about Linka. Which happened _a lot_. The Russian girl monopolized his anecdotes as much as his thoughts, apparently.

Wheeler had to say that he was surprised at how easily his mom had taken the news that there was nothing going on between him and Trish. She had not argued or probed any further than was necessary. Maybe a part of her had always known that their teenage love was a thing of the past, and she had resigned herself to it even before her son had explicitly talked to her about it. Wheeler also guessed that it had something to do with the excitement he exuded whenever he mentioned Linka; after all, mothers were experts at detecting love.

As for Trish, they were still in contact. Wheeler talked to her on the phone at least once a week, but he preferred to do so in Linka's presence. Linka had been very understanding about their continuing friendship and Wheeler's attempts at supporting Trish, but he did not want there to be any misunderstandings about his intentions. He wanted Linka present in every aspect of his life, no matter how complicated or painful. He'd even began sharing bits and pieces of his past with her, even though the rough edges around it still stung him. Although, it was easier opening up when someone held him with such love, her tender touches on his head, her soft words encouraging him, building up whatever had been torn down by pain. That's how he knew he could trust Linka with anything, and why he still felt like the luckiest man on earth anytime he was in her arms.

Wheeler's mom had given them baked goodies to bring over to Trish at the Children's Center where she now worked. The young woman had created an art workshop in conjunction with social services, catering to children and youth in difficult social situations. Wheeler's mom had been very proud of her, albeit sad when Trish had moved out of her home. The American girl had found a small apartment close to work, and she seemed on the definite mend.

So the next stop for the young couple was downtown Brooklyn. Linka was seated beside him in the car, a content aura about her despite the traffic, but Wheeler felt a little nervous by this point. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Trish and Linka meeting. Maybe a part of him was afraid Trish would do or say something to upset Linka, and he really did not want their first Christmas together to be ruined. He had big things planned out. But a part of him was eager to see Trish and attest to her well-being. He missed her as one does a childhood friend; it would be incredibly difficult to erase her completely from his life given the past they had shared. He simply had to trust in Trish's good sense, thus avoiding sabotaging his perfectly constructed happiness. After all, he'd made it very clear how he felt about Linka.

The building was warm inside and they loosened their scarves as they entered. There was a sign indicating the Art Center as down the corridor to the left, and Wheeler took Linka's hand as they arrived and entered the vast room. There was a group of children looking at books in one corner of the room, seated on a circular couch, while a couple of teens were painting on canvases set on easels, one beside the other. Christmas music was playing in the background softly, and Wheeler saw a few paintings hung up that were reminiscent of Trish's style. When he examined them more closely, he saw her distinct signature on the bottom corner of the canvas. This pleased him, that her talent was finally on display for others to admire, and hopefully, to inspire.

Wheeler and Linka both turned at the female voice trying to get their attention. A matter of seconds, and Trish was standing directly before them, her smile wide as her eyes landed on Wheeler. She moved to hug him, catching the American boy off guard. All the same, Trish's movements sure, and she was laughing a little with happiness.

"Jake! I'm so glad you could make it!" Trish was beaming, and Wheeler returned her embrace before holding her at arm's length so that he could examine her better. Trish's face was pink and healthy, tastefully made up, her hair was cut shorter and sleek under her Santa hat. She was wearing a festive red dress that was becoming on her, with tights and flats to complete the ensemble. Her body weight seemed healthier than the last time Wheeler had seen her, and her eyes were placated, serene.

"A little snow wouldn't stop us!" Wheeler smiled back, before he moved closer to Linka and placed one hand on her lower back. His gesture brought them side by side, and Trish assessed them silently for just a second, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Trish, this is Linka," Wheeler offered, looking from one girl to the other to gauge their reactions. He was very relieved when Trish broke into a ready smile.

"Very nice to meet you," the American girl nodded, holding out her hand amicably to the pretty blonde.

"Likewise," Linka smiled, shaking her hand. The Russian girl gestured towards the walls before meeting the girl's dark eyes once more. "These paintings, they are beautiful. You are very talented."

Trish waved off the compliment with her hand, as if it embarrassed her, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm just glad I put them to a good use, gave them a home."

"Ma's over the moon about what you're doin'," Wheeler smiled, enthused. "And you should be proud, too. These kids really need someone they can look up."

"I have read that art therapy is one of the most effective tools that can be used with children who are struggling," Linka volunteered, nodding along as her glance fell on the two teens who were now photographing their work with their phones, giggles escaping them.

"All right, guys, you are gonna make me blush if you keep that up! I'm still not used to hearing so many praises. This work has definitively got its advantages, even though it's far from easy."

"Hey, we've brought some cookies, biscuits, and stuff for the kids," Wheeler piped up, pointing to the bag Linka was carrying.

"His mom has been baking all night," Linka confided with a small smile, and Trish laughed.

"She's such a doll, thanks! I did promise them treats, so this is perfect!"

Trish called to the kids who were on the couches and they left the other chaperone there to tidy up the books. Wheeler noticed he was a guy about their age, maybe a couple of years older, and they shared a friendly wave as the kids came forward with great energy. Trish asked Linka if she could set up the treats on the area by the window and explained that the kids would help set up the table, since they were expecting more children to show up.

"Hands off the goodies 'til I tell ya!" Trish tried her best authoritarian voice on the kids, but they all just smiled at her as they got ready to follow Linka. Their interest had now moved on the blonde girl, keeper of the treats.

"So, how are you likin' it here, Trish?" Wheeler asked as he followed her to a few empty desks. The American girl was getting ready to arrange some pencil crayons and paper on them, laying out the activities for the afternoon.

"Like I said, it's pretty rewarding," nodded Trish, leafing through some handouts to place near the blank sheets of paper. "I'm not raking in the big bucks or anythin', but the pay is decent. I get to paint, and teach, and coach some of the kids, so that's the best part. Listening to their stories is difficult, sometimes that stuff just triggers other shit, you know? But I'm still seeing my therapist a few times a month. Plus, Tim over there is a really great help, not just with the work but with me, as well."

Her eyes met the young man's in question, and as if he could sense that Trish was talking about him, Tim gave her a wide smile. Wheeler did not miss the look they exchanged and he smiled, folding his arms over his chest while he sat himself on an empty desk.

"You and Tim, huh?" Wheeler could not help but grin, and was astounded when Trish actually blushed. She _never_ blushed. If anything, she was known for making other people blush! But Wheeler could tell that she was different, softer, somehow; perhaps for the first time in a long while, she was _happy_. The thought warmed his heart.

"Shush!" Trish half laughed, smacking Wheeler's arm lightly. "It's not really like that."

"Why not? He seems like a decent guy," Wheeler went on, and Trish lifted her head to meet his eyes. For once, she seemed like the easygoing young woman she ought to be. Something that had been taken away from her for all these years.

"He's _very_ decent. Probably the smartest guy I know. He's gettin' his Ph.D. in the summer. A social worker. The kids adore him to bits, he's very good with them."

"But you don't like him that way?" Wheeler tried to guess, and he watched her stealing another peek at Tim across the room. Trish sighed a little and newly turned to Wheeler beside her.

"I do," she conceded carefully with a small nod. A moment's pause, in which she tried to collect her thoughts. "I guess I'm just… _scared_. I don't really wanna jump into anything too serious while I'm still tryin' to figure out my life, ya know? The good thing is that he knows a lot of my past shit, and he isn't runnin' yet."

"A definite bonus," Wheeler teased while rolling his eyes at her a little. "Shit, it's not like you _caused_ your past, Trish. It _happened_ to you. But I get what you're sayin'. I have the same fear. Thankfully, Linka isn't runnin', either."

Trish sat beside him on the desk and he shifted to make more room for her. Their attention gravitated to Linka, who was helping the kids dividing the different treats into colorful plastic plates. Some of them were showing her their artwork while they set the table, and she was smiling and commenting on their pictures.

"She's fuckin' gorgeous," Trish remarked with a small sigh, although her voice held no trace of resentment. Wheeler was glad they could sit and talk like old friends without any sort of awkwardness between them. Just respect and trust, like it should be.

"Probably smart to boot, too. A nice girl, no doubt. Your eyes just light up when you look at her, you know that?"

Wheeler grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "So I've been told."

"She's the one?" Trish asked, her voice lowering as she clasped her hands in her lap. Wheeler could read something in her tone, a note of the past weaving itself into the present. He hoped wholeheartedly that this was not painful for Trish in any way. He really didn't consider himself a good enough reason for anybody to be upset over, and he wished for Trish to find her own personal happiness.

"Yeah," the redhead nodded, briefly squeezing Trish's hand as he spoke. She smiled at his tender gesture, appreciating what he was trying to communicate, and examined him in silence for a moment.

Then, Trish took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, as if she were turning a page. "I'm happy for you, then, Jake."

"I'm gonna propose to her," Wheeler blurted out, the words tumbling out of him before he could stop them.

As expected, Trish looked up at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open comically.

Wheeler ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath to steady the beating of his heart. It was banging every which way inside his chest at the announcement he'd just made.

"You're the first person I've told, Trish. I have a ring and everythin'. I was thinking of taking her to Liberty Island on Christmas morning and asking her then. Am I crazy? Shit, what if she says no?"

The sheer panic interwoven in his voice caused Trish to laugh out loud, and his own anxieties calmed with the merry sound. Wheeler continued telling himself to relax and let fate take over. Even though it was a very difficult thing to do whenever Linka was concerned. His fear of being without her continued to linger, even when there was no apparent reason for it.

"Why would that be crazy if you love each other? That sounds like a very hard proposal to say no to, Wheeler."

"It's probably gonna be a long engagement. Linka isn't your traditional girl, planning the perfect wedding from birth or anything. But… I just want to know that our lives are travelling in that direction. I want her to be my wife, have a family someday."

"Shit, that's heavy," Trish let out, her voice still surprised, before playfully bumping his shoulder with hers. "You've gone all grown up on me. Fuck."

"I know, right?" laughed the redhead, the tension in his muscles easing a bit. His eyes found Linka once more and his features lit up with affection. "She's cast a spell on me and I'll never be free of it."

"Then you should never second guess yourself. All you can do is nurture the love you share, cherish it, help it become more beautiful each day. That way, it will become stronger than any adversity you will face, and it will be your guide for life."

"Now who's all grown up?" Wheeler teased her, secretly moved by her words and the soft sparkle in her eyes. Trish was a special girl, he decided, and he hoped with all his might that one day, someone bright enough would come along and cherish her like she deserved. Not like he'd failed to do, with that glimmer of selfishness thrown in, but with the warm light of a supernova.

Trish laughed quietly at his comment and slowly moved to stand up. She reached for his hand, and he took it amicably, mimicking her actions.

"Come on, enough of this! I want you to meet Tim while we wait for the rest of the kids to show up. And then we can all pig out on some deliciously prepared junk food. After all, that's what the holidays are all about!"

"Uhm, I'm sure there was something else to them, as well."

"Yeah, something about families, and love, and joy… and _diamond rings_?"

" **Shhh**!" Wheeler insisted loudly, making to run after Trish as she sprinted away, laughing merrily. "That's supposed to be a secret!"

"Did you forget I'm not very good at keepin' 'em?"

"Two can play that game! Where's Tim?"

Trish laughed and stuck her tongue out at him before nearly colliding with Tim. Wheeler noticed the way Tim's touch on her arms lingered longer than necessary, and the sincere smile he had for her. Trish was going to be all right. They were all going to be just fine.

Wheeler reached Linka, slinging an arm around her waist to bring her closer. She was surrounded by children who were eager to get her attention. Wheeler figured they were probably blinded by her beautiful smile, let alone the treats.

"Yankee," Linka turned to him, eyes bright, and he could not help but envelop her in a tight hug. She laughed a little but did not let go of him. Again, they lost themselves in each other, the setting becoming irrelevant.

"I love you," Wheeler whispered to her, and her familiar scent eased his mind. Trish was right. There was nothing to fear with a love this strong. In a matter of days, they would be engaged and happy, and life would always seem this sweet.

"I love you, too," Linka replied close to his ear, and he grinned in response as he loosened his hold on her. They let the children have fun setting the table every bizarre way they deemed apt, and watched over them in silence for a moment.

"You know," Linka started out thoughtfully, and Wheeler took her hands in his as he gave her his undivided attention. "I thought it would be difficult to meet someone who has shared such a close past with you, but Trish seems… _all right_. What she is doing here is terrific. It is a wonderful service to the community. She still loves you, by the way."

Wheeler's mouth opened at Linka's confident revelation, and he watched her shrug easily.

"It is in her eyes. I guess it is not something that can be turned on and off so easily. But her way of supporting you and being happy for you is very admirable. It makes her a better woman than most."

"Babe, I'm sorry if this is weird for you…" Wheeler started to reply, worried, but Linka hushed him with a kiss. There was a fondness to her glance that instantly warmed him, and he instantly knew she was not upset.

"I would say that this is hardest on Trish, if I had to guess. But as long as she is okay, then I have no problems with it."

Wheeler squeezed her hands and gave her a loving smile. She was being incredible about all this and he suddenly couldn't wait to be away from everyone and be alone with her.

"After all, it is very hard _not_ to love you, Yankee," the Russian girl teased him, running a hand back and forth through his hair.

"Babe, this is going to be the best Christmas ever!" Wheeler jovially shared, and the overly convinced look in his eyes caused Linka to laugh.

"You will be just as excited for our New Years in Russia, _da_?"

"Yeah, I'd be crazy to turn down a week-long party! Besides, I already know this will be an amazing year," Wheeler all but chirped, before newly kissing her lips. He searched her eyes and smiled to himself. "We're starting it out together, how can it not?"

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the company of children, old and new friends, and the everlasting presence of love. The world was bright with the light of the smiles exchanged, alight with its glow. Wheeler could not have asked for anything more.


End file.
